Entangled Webs
by Danowsawa
Summary: Gwen Stacy has had a heck of a time running her own life, much less the life of Spider-Woman on top of it. Even under the tutelage of Jessica Drew, she can't help but feel overwhelmed at times, especially with the Mary Janes also vying for her time. But when her Spider Senses get crossed with the mind of somebody else, how will she manage to protect TWO alter-egos?
1. Wearing Thin

Gwen's eyes shrunk unamusedly as she released the scrunched-up portion of the paper in her hand, allowing it to fall down a good two feet past the top of the building she'd perched herself upon, groaning to herself at the size of the list. She ran the lengthy page through her hands, hurriedly counting the seemingly endless collection of names and addresses there, boredom and exhaustion both settling in as her head fell backward, watching the sunlit sky above her with still-narrowed eyes.

"Geez, Jess clearly didn't understand what I meant by 'severely lengthy list of casualties," she groaned, raising the paper upward to examine it further, "That's like, what, fifty names? Across Manhattan? I'll have more tread on me than an SUV."

Shaking her head in dismay, she folded the list back up as she took to her feet with a sigh, hopping off from the edge of the roof onto its flat top, mocking Jessica Drew's voice as she made her way to the opposite side, "Improve your image! Check up on the survivors! Let 'em know you're not some evil- yada yada yada. Thinks I have it so easy over here. Then again, she _is_ a Supermom now, I guess."

Shoving the paper into a pocket, Gwen allowed her body to teeter off the side of the high-rise, spinning her body as she went, falling backward and descending at an alarming rate, her thoughts as calm as ever, however, "I'll give it ten people, Jess. That'll get you to understand how I'm viewed here. I'm not a hero. not a mother. Hell, I'm not even offered the respect of a Supervillain."

Her hand flew outward, sending a burst of webbing out as her body concaved through the air, sending her flying as she shot one strand after a other, her body making its way through the New York air like any other discarded assortment of plastic bags and refuse.

"Here, I'm no more than a common murderer," she thought, sadly, "No amount of good I do will change that. but I'll play along, just to prove it."

* * *

Her fists shoved deep into her hoodie's pockets, Gwen kept her head low as she walked through the hallway of this shabby apartment, only revealing her hand to pull out the slip of paper, her eyes giving it a cursory glance while quietly reciting the address to herself.

"3-B… 3-B… Ewan Byrne? Sounds like a good ol' chap," she quipped under her breath, the back of her neck suddenly tingling as her head jumped up to see a couple turning the corner opposite her, forcing her to dash behind a potted plant as they came to a stop by the elevators.

Gwen sighed, rolling her eyes beneath her mask, "How am I supposed to get a second impression in edgewise? Geez."

She turned her head over her shoulder just in time to watch the couple disappear into the elevator, getting to her feet and quietly making her way further down the corridor, finally arriving at 3-B. She lifted a hand to gingerly knock at the door, a massive growl of a voice bursting through the wooden barrier.

"Who is it?!"

Her lips turned distastefully, already regretting having followed Jess' advice, though simultaneously realizing she'd come too far now, "Sir, you were involved in the Tombstone mess last week; your name shows up on the injury manifest anyway. I just figured I'd check in and see how you were-"

"And who's askin'?!" the man interrupted with a vigorous, rumbling shout.

Gwen grimaced angrily as she felt the rising need to retaliate, though she kept her cool, only barely, gritting her teeth as she managed, "The person…who…saved you."

"Well feck off!" he cried, a loud _BOOMPT_ erupting from the door, sending Gwen back a pace or two in shock, "Leave me be, ya freak!"

Her eyes rolling once again, Gwen shrugged in indifference as she turned to exit, holding her arms out inquisitively, "I love it when I get the scholars."

* * *

A few hours had passed, now seeing Gwen out of her suit, simply making her way down the street with a face that shone her full contempt for the many faces that had accompanied slamming doors and curse words, and one particularly old lady who'd, in a desperate struggle with surprise, instinctively thrown the newspaper in her hand at Gwen's head. She reached up to massage her head, running her fingers through her head as she pulled the list out of her pocket, running her eyes down the paper in review.

"Ewan Byrne, 'Fuck off'. Sergio Leal, 'Go play with S.H.I.E.L.D'. Emma Duncan, 'My cat needs to be fed, I can't come to the door right now [dismissive voice]', " she groaned, repeating the notes she'd written beside the names she'd been able to cross off

"Jess'll probably prefer exact examples. If anything, I guess she'll like my dictation skills," Gwen murmured, exchanging the list with her phone to check the time, "Wow, on time for band practice for once. Betty's gonna have a cow."

"Hey!" came a voice from behind her, forcing Gwen to look over her shoulder to find Gloria catching up to her, "Betty got a cow?!"

"Please, she couldn't even remember to feed that fish she had," Gwen reminded with a grin, reaching out a fist for Gloria to bump, "She might _have_ a cow, considering I'm on time for once. How goes it?"

Gloria patted the keyboard bag dangling from her hand, "Practice, practice, practice. Well, you'd have to add a few cuss words to fully quote Em Jay. Seriously, with you missing so much, she's on _us_ a lot more."

"Sorry," Gwen replied weakly, rubbing her arm.

"Pfft, I don't care if you missed every practice," Gloria scoffed, "As lo g as you make the shows, damn; I don't know what you've been doing, but keep doing it- it makes your drums badass. Even Em Jay know that; probably why she's even cut you some slack."

Gwen frowned, "Still, sorry. It's just-"

"Don't even," Gloria assured her easily, "I know you don't like talking about it. As long as she and Betty think it has to do with your dad's retirement or whatever, I'm not gonna raise any suspicions."

"Suspicions?"

"Look, Gwennie, you might can fool those two, but not me; I know there's something goin' on with you. Maybe that thing with Peter hit you more than you've let on, or that Harry thing-… Wow, that's, like, both of your childhood friends missing," Gloria pondered tactlessly, running her thumb along her chin.

Gwen sighed, hanging her head low, "Gee, thanks for the input. You're a real ray of sunshine today."

"Someone's gotta keep your spirit up," Gloria teased, "Hey, we're fifteen minutes early to practice. I'm gonna run to the store; you need anything?"

Gwen slid a wallet out from her front pocket, throwing it open with her thumb, "Yeah, just a-"

Her friend reached over and pushed her hand away, speaking lightly, "Hey, I haven't seen you in a week. It's on me. As long as it's under a few bucks; I had to buy some new strings the other day; my savings went kaput."

Gwen smiled as she returned her wallet, "Thanks. Just a corn dog will do; I'll get ya next time."

"Pfft, which will be after I forget about this exchange," Gloria teased, "See you 'round the block in ten!"

Gwen nodded as Gloria departed, holding her arm out to keep from slamming her leg into her guitar case as she crossed the street, leaving Gwen alone to watch her, hands still curled along both straps of her backpack. She continued along soon enough, looking up toward the street sign where she was to make her turn, though her eyes clenched in realization as she paused, pulling out her list from earlier, moving her head up and down to compare the two.

She shrugged, "Well, if it's right here, I might as well. Nicholas Nash; couldn't be any worse than some of the others on here."

Ducking into an alley way, Gwen pulled her backpack down off her shoulders, quickly donning her suit and reversing her backpack before stuffing it full with her street clothes, hurriedly taking up the wall to make it to the opposite side of the block, where Nash's apartment was listed, carefully slinging her way around to the doorway that led into the apartment building, slinking in, careful not to cause a stir.

She worked her way up the stairwell to the second floor, keeping an eye on her phone, avoiding a rambunctious trio of kids running down the hall before making it to the door she was looking for, giving it a knock before returning her hands to her pockets, leaning back to examine both ends of the hallway.

"Seven…eight…nine… Well, that's a new record for not immediately yelling," Gwen observed pithily with rolling eyes, reaching out to knock once again.

She noted the number of doors with slips of paper hung up on a clip that had been bolted at each one for management notices, though this particular apartment's was missing, "I know you're in there, dude… C'mon, I literally don't-"

Checking her phone once again, Gwen grimaced at this person's disregard for anything to do with basic hospitality, her body quickly turning and speedily walking back down the hallway, "Okay, you wanna play? We'll play. for only five minutes."

Hurriedly exiting the apartment, Gwen slung her way up the corner of the building, sending her flying up the alley-side of the apartment, quickly scanning for the window that belonged to her mark, her eyes narrowed angrily as she did so. She hit the wall, crawling downward to peek into the window of a one Nicholas Nash.

"Peek from the top," she whispered to herself instructively, repeating one of Jessica Drew's mantras, "They always stare at the bottom first."

Her anger only slightly abated by her sense of espionage, Gwen slowly stared into the apartment through its open curtains, finding a place not at all beyond what she would have thought of as 'normal'. Her head turned, finding a man about her age sitting at a desk, his ears smothered by headphones as his foot tapped at the ground, his attention focused solely on his computer screen. Gwen checked her phone once again, catching the time just before the screen flipped upside down.

"Two minutes. Dude, I'm _not_ making this trip down here again for you," she thought to herself with disdain, peering back into the small apartment.

She lifted a hand, aiming her web shooter at a tiny little lamp that sat above the man, shutting one eye as she took just one more second to aim before- _shurp CRASH!_

The man jumped in his seat, ripping his headphones off and spinning around in his desk chair in one smooth motion, watching the shattered lamp upon the ground for just a moment before spinning around in a flash, his eyes darting to the top of his window, seeing Spider-Woman's head there, wagging her arm angrily in front of her face.

"God dammit Cap, you gotta get me some of these that aren't homemade!" he heard her mutter under her breath, "Who the crap has ever heard of calibrating-"

Her attention turned to him with a blank look on her face, the two of them staring at one another for what seemed to be an eternity before, finally, Gwen spoke up, "Uh, yo. Sorry about the lamp; I was totally just trying to get your attention."

"N-No, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have had my music up so loud," he replied, looking over his shoulder, "That was a piece of junk anyway; the thing had short or something."

Gwen frowned beneath her mask, her head turning to her pocket, which sat above her at this moment, "Still, I should buy- Well, maybe an IOU. God, here I am trying to improve my image an I pull that crap. Ugh."

Like an actor turning away to exit the stage after such a performance, Gwen turned her shoulders to crawl away, though the man was quick to stop her with fast speech, "Hey, don't worry about it, really."

Coming to a sudden halt, Gwen returned her attention to him with her eyes growing suspicious, shrinking as her head tilted to the side, "You seem pretty calm for somebody speaking to the terrible Spider-Woman. I hunt down children according to one tabloid, you know."

"I know," he smirked knowingly, nervously reaching to scratch his neck, "Anybody with their eyes open should see that you've done nothing but help people. Guilty conscious or not, it's an admirable thing you're doing."

This did nothing to lessen Gwen's suspicions, though she still passed it off as an unusually normal mode of conversation, her head instinctively pulling away as the man crossed his arms, almost nervously, as he turned his head away, "Thank you. I know you probably don't hear that often…but thanks. for the other day, that is; a lot of people might not be here today, otherwise."

Gwen felt an unfamiliar pang cross her chest, almost a feeling somewhere between some self-righteous zeal and sympathy. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been thanked with such sincerity, or even if it had happened before at all. Her mind quickly wandered to what she would even put on the little comment section she'd drawn up on the casualty sheet, unable to figure-

"Oh, sh-!" she suddenly cried out as her phone began to vibrate, her hand darting to her pocket, ripping her phone out to see the text from Gloria, only needing to notice the all-caps lettering to understand its intent, "Yo, Nick, I gotta dash! Sorry about the lamp-!"

She leapt down the wall into the alleyway, waiting to be out of sight before whipping her backpack from her shoulder, making like a mad dog to get two streets down where their practice "center" was, leaving Nicholas Nash staring at the window in surprise, unmoving at the sight. He quietly turned around to stare at the demolished lamp that lay in a pile beside his desk, his piercing eyes examining the wreckage for but a second before walking toward his kitchen for a dustpan.

* * *

Gwen crashed through the double doors of the run-down community center, her body hunched over as she took an endless series of half-breaths, trying to calm her lungs as she now walked toward the Mary Janes, all of whom were wearing shocked expressions at the girl before them. Em Jay's face quickly fell to one of authority, though it was Gloria who spoke first, following a groan.

"Y'know, you were really ruining your girl's credibility there…"

"Sorry," Gwen replied heartlessly between breaths, falling onto the stool that stood behind her drum kit, hanging her head low ashamedly, feeling Em Jay's critical stare without having to look.

Gloria shrugged, "I mean, it's all good anyway. Just having you here at all is becoming a rare thing to cherish in and of itself, ain't it, E-?"

She paused as she noticed Em Jay's droll expression, her red-headed band leader not much amused with her tardiness, particularly after having Gloria's assurance that she had been right across the street. Still, in an uncharacteristic change of pace, she didn't speak, simply shaking her head and turning around as she fiddled with the guitar hanging from her neck, giving Betty a chance to examine Gwen herself, leaning forward as though that would help despite being yards away.

"Y'know, she's even late coming home," she murmured,

Gloria sighed, "Come on, cut her some slack, alright? She makes it to the shows; that's enough, isn't it? She _kills_ it, even."

A loud E-minor chord burst through an amplifier as Em Jay spun around as though allowing her guitar to add the snarl to her even-keeled voice, "We've been getting lucky at those shows- what do you think will happen when we're not playing in front of a bunch of booze-hounds? Anybody with half a brain can tell we're no better than half the bands comin' out of this city, so stop trying to cover for her, Gloria."

As Gloria's face spun in an upset grimace, Em Jay walked toward Gwen, who still remained hunched over, her head buried behind her drum kit as Em Jay spoke up, "You don't seem to get it, Gwen. I can play whatever shit I have recorded on my phone so loud, and even then, it's mechanical and static- you think that's a decent replacement for a person?"

Remaining unmoved, Gwen didn't reply, leaving Em Jay to sigh as she pulled her guitar over her head, walking to its nearby stand as she continued, "Look, you need to understand how important you are as a drummer. You hide behind that drum kit of yours and all, but without you here, doing what you do, all three of us are playing over one another, playing across fifteen lanes of traffic; you're like the conductor back there, like the goddamn mothership or something. and until you get that in your head and show up, we're not going anywhere."

With her head still sunken, they failed to see Gwen's lips pull knowingly to the side, prompting Em Jay to finish up with a final, "and Betty'll raise hell if we replace you, so that's not gonna happen."

"My bass saves your face," Betty muttered monotonously, sitting back in her chair as though she were reciting from a court transcript.

Gloria rolled her eyes, "And I thought Gwen's puns were bad. You two really are roomies; she's rubbing off on you."

Betty eyed her with confusion, unable to follow her humor, as Em Jay reached over the drum kit to give her drummer a light pat on the shoulder before turning toward a table set up in the corner of the room with the snacks Gloria had been designated to bring for today's practice, "Now take five, girls. We'll start up in a few."

"A-Actually, more like take _two_ ; some of my hours were cut," Gloria frowned as she followed behind her band leader, rushing to the snack table to divvy out fair portions between the four of them.

Sighing heavily, Gwen finally raised her head as she leaned back in her seat, just then noticing Betty watching her with crossed arms and legs, her foot jumping up and down as her eyes peered back through raven hair, creating something of an awkward silence between the two until Gwen finally frowned, looking away.

"I know," she grumbled, "Em already gave me the-"

"The other night, you woke me up coming in so late," Betty interrupted with a dispassionate voice, though this had obviously caused her some anger as she continued, "Please quit doing that. I need my nine hours or I'm a monster."

Gwen nodded sincerely as she stood up, rounding her drum kit before approaching Betty on her way toward the table herself, "Yeah, sorry. That was my bad."

"Thank you," Betty offered as she turned in her chair to set her bass guitar up in its stand, jumping as she felt Gwen's hand patting her head as she walked by.

"You'd make a terrible monster, Elizabeth," Gwen smirked playfully, sending a noticeably shiver throughout her roommate's body at the sound of her full name.

Betty frowned, "You're cold."


	2. Mrs Stacy, In Spirit

In his retirement, George Stacy had found himself sitting out on his front porch far more often than he could have remembered during any point in his illustrious career in law enforcement, very often returning home merely to sleep and have a quick bite to eat before rushing back to the office. It was an endless cycle of work and sleep, though with a little girl at home, his time spent ridding the streets of criminals was very much worth it, not wanting his daughter to ever meet the fate of so many supposedly street-wise youth who ended up either dead, or soon-to-be after joining one of New York's ever present gangs.

He sat motionless in the rocking bench at one end of the porch, his only movement coming from his feet that sauntered back and forth to keep his seat in motion, rocking him gently as he stared off into space. He had little to regret, he thought, going back in his mind to his first days as a father. Could he have done anything different? He had spent so much time, energy, and blood to keep his daughter away from the horrible underbelly of the city. Now, instead of being shielded from it, she was battling it herself. Could he have done more, at all, to offer her a more normal life?

George's eyes weighed heavy until he realized he'd been sitting out here for quite some time, just noticing the dark sky above as his head suddenly shook from side to side to rid himself of his tire. He bent over, holding his head in his hand as he groaned quietly, feeling the bones and muscles in his back ache. Even a few weeks into retirement, without his running around every day, his body has already begun to atrophy, it seemed to him now, a frown showing at his hidden face.

His ears suddenly perked up as he heard the unmistakeable sound he'd known to listen for at all time, even before he'd known the true identity of the "Spider-Woman". A succession of _'schurp, schurp'_ ing sounds just barely broke the air before his ear, forcing him to raise his posture in his seat, fixing his eyes in the darkness, though unable to spot out the visage of his daughter anywhere in his eyesight, feeling slightly perturbed at himself. He'd only known of her double life for a month or two, yet it still remained so incredibly surreal, nearly seeming too impossible.

Just as he began to doubt his own ears, he heard his daughter's voice from around the corner of the house, Gwen's shoes rustling through the poorly cut grass as her sneakers pulled through entire spotted patches of weeds. She watched the ground beneath her to critique her father's handiwork, his emotionless face meaning she had room to tease.

"Well, somebody's going to have to get the mower out again," she chided, crossing her arms as she emulated her father from the memories of her childhood.

George watched her with an unnerved glance, "I had to do it at night. I wasn't the one wanting me on house arrest last week."

"Y'know how many Saturday morning cartoons kept me inside growing up?" Gwen wondered seriously as she rounded her way around the porch and up the stairs, "That excuse never worked for me once."

Her father shook his head, slightly amused, "All you had looming over you was piano classes."

"Well," Gwen sighed, falling into place beside her father in his bench, sending it flying back in its rocking motion while she clutched her hands together, resting them in her lap lazily as she went on, exhaustedly, "I can't say the potential for being a target of a mob boss equates well with studying a musical instrument. You kept me grounded enough as a kid; I figure I can return the favor."

Smirking at his daughter's attitude, George sat back in the bench himself as he turned his head to his daughter, feeling as though it'd been weeks since he last saw her, probably exacerbated by all the worrying that often accompanied his thoughts of her. Still, her couldn't help but take time out of his day to watch his daughter- it was time he never took during his days as a police captain. Now that his wife was gone, it was time he regretted. If he had only one regret, he suddenly thought; protecting his family wasn't the same as being with them and spending time with them.

Gwen noticed his stare instantly, which her spider-sense would always alert her to, though she would often pretend as she hadn't, if only to remain somewhat normal, only returning a glance of her own just before she began to blush from embarrassment, "What?"

Her father shook his head, turning back to watch the road, "You've just always looked like your mother."

"Ahh," Gwen replied knowingly, "I'm stopping you 'cause I've heard this before."

She cleared her throat dramatically, causing her father to already chuckle as she took on an impression of her father, "But ya' know, yer mother, see, she ain't never worried me so!"

George shot her a sidelong stare as she went along as normal, "You thinking about mom again?"

"Tryin' not to," he grinned, "But it's kind of difficult when you're cooped up in your own home, fresh into retirement, still with that police officer's itch, with nothing much of anything to do. So I got into the attic and started organizing stuff up there, most of it your mother's. A lot of her old clothes and even some records- I figured I'd put those aside; I know all you kids are into those these days."

"Geez, dad, get with the times," Gwen feigned complaint, unable to hold back a light teasing in her voice, "If it ain't flac, you'd better hop back."

Her father rubbed his face exhausted as if her statement had aged him ten years, covering his mouth as he laughed, "I resigned myself to the fact that I'd never be able to keep up with you kids long, long ago. Every day there's some stupid new gadget or some new superhero cropping up out of nowhere. At least with criminals, no matter the times, the heists and jobs might get bigger, but they never stop leaving trails or being predictable."

"Even Spider-Woman," he grinned, "She was a case study in that early on."

Gwen's eyes rolled as she pulled her feet up onto the rocking bench, wrapping her arms around her knees as she gave a mild pout, "C'mon, I wasn't _that_ bad. I learned enough from listen to you."

At that, her father let loose with a far more hearty laugh, bending forward as he received a critical glare from his daughter, "I know; looking back, it should have been so easy to figure out. I kept finding getaway tricks from old criminals I must have recounted at home."

He availed himself for only a moment longer before leaning back into his seat, shaking his head with a massive sigh, "I shouldn't laugh, I know. Even with those vinyls in there, I can't help but see you as my little girl. I still can't fully comprehend you going out and more or less following in my footsteps, but… Her name is appropriate enough. you are a woman now. One I couldn't be more proud of."

Despite her annoyance from a moment ago, Gwen couldn't help but smile at her father's words, leaning over toward him and wrapping an arm around him in a half-hug, rubbing the side of her face against his broad shoulder. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering how much safer she felt growing up when he was home, as though this man wouldn't let anything into the cozy little home she inhabited. Even as an older man, he retained the same confident air around him that almost killed her to sleep, if not for his continued speaking.

"Speaking of," her father uttered under his breath, "Have you given any thought on your future and all that?"

"Dad, I told you-"

"I know you don't like thinking about it, but… It _is_ important, you know. I just wanted to know if you were keeping it in mind," George finished mildly, not wishing to send his daughter away on a touchy topic, "I know Peter's death sort of…you know."

Gwen pulled away, latching onto her knees once again as she rested her chin in the space between them, staring off into spaces she quietly replied, "I wanted so much to make it into ESU, but now… I just don't know anymore. Those were all pipe dreams anyway; I mean, I'm sure Peter would have gotten accepted, but especially now, talk about a massive assortment of hurdles."

Her father grinned, "Yeah, I suppose. but you are thinking about your future, right?"

She slowly turned her head toward him, watching him with suspicious eyes, "…did something happen?"

He chuckled lightly, "No, no. I just think when you hit retirement, it's natural to think about leaving a legacy. I never got to rid this city of any and all crime, so all I've really got is you. I just want to know that you're being the best Gwen Stacy you can be. You know what I always said."

"Whatever I do, be the best at it," Gwen answered quietly, turning her face back into her knees, burying her eyes there as she turned quiet.

A silent lull came over the two, which suited them both well at the moment. After such a long day, Gwen was happy to spend some time in her own mind, while her father had always felt far more at peace in the quiet, which had always been a stark contrast to the cries and yells of the city streets. They sat there for a while, simply enjoying one another's presence, before Gwen finally spoke back up.

"Actually," she began, apprehensively, "You remember that picture of me and Captain America..?"

Her father's eyes shrunk in thought as he mulled over her reference, finally nodding, "Yeah, the one of you two shaking hands? or the self-portrait you took on your phone of the two of you?"

"Selfie, dad."

He smirked, "I'm only joking!"

Gwen's lips curled humorously, her eyes slowly turning up toward the stars with her head following along, her voice growing more exuberant, "Well, what if I joined S.H.I.E.L.D?"

George's smile quickly darkened at the thought, a sigh escaping him as he massages his face again, almost nervously, "Gwen…"

"I'd be able to do something I'm not only good at, but something I love! I mean, you've said it my entire life, there's nothing as honorable as putting somebody else's life ahead of your own!"

He continued rubbing his face, "I was slightly hoping that you weren't listening, you know."

"C'mon dad, it would be awesome! You spent your entire life protecting me. Y'know, I was given this opportunity; maybe I was meant to protect you now."

Her father sighed at her words, dropping his hand to his side as he turned to meet her eyes, "Look, Gwen, I'm not going to give you the whole 'I already lost your mother' bit, because we've already done the other 'heard it before' thing, but I just-"

"You said to do whatever I want," she challenged suddenly, "but be the best at it. Well I want to be the best damn hero this city could ever hope for; I don't care if they see think I'm a murderer, it's just another hurdle for me to climb."

George lowered his gaze respectfully as he considered her words, quietly responding, "You're nineteen, so I can't tell you what to do anymore, but…have you considered what joining S.H.I.E.L.D. would mean? What being the best hero would mean? What kind of sacrifices that entails?"

"I do, dad," Gwen answered, unflinchingly, "Because you were always the greatest hero I've ever known."

George sighed, his lips spinning in displeasure at his daughter using such emotional tactics on him, though she continued, "You had to sacrifice your time, your body, energy, even your family. I'm so ready to take that on. I mean, honestly, what else am I good at, really?"

"Sophistry, for one," George grinned mildly.

Gwen persisted, not allowing him off the hook, "With S.H.I.E.L.D. I could do more good for this world than-"

"Can you be better than your old man?"

This question stopped Gwen in her tracks, her eyes watching a heartless smile creep across her father's face as he looked up toward her, "You said I was the greatest hero you've known. Think you can top me?"

Her brow curled in confusion at his question, which must have been her father's plan, as he slowly began to stand up, groaning as his legs aches with wear, turning to find his daughter very much unmoved from a moment ago. He only smiled at her uncharacteristically disarmed state as he pushed his hands into his pockets, waiting for her to inquire further.

She slowly turned up toward him,"I-I mean, you're my father. You'll always-"

"I won't," he answered immediately, cutting her off, "We all die someday. I will too, sooner than either of us think."

He then smirked mischievous, "Told ya I've been thinking about this stuff."

Gwen's eyes narrowed sadly as her father bent backward, sending a litany of cracking joints alight while a satisfied grown left him, fixing his shirt as he began toward the door, "As for me, my race is run. Tonight, I know my little girl is safe. Pizza's in the fridge; stay as long as you'd like. I have a rendezvous with my pillow in the near future."

He leaned down to kiss Gwen at the top of her head before messing her hair up with a swift rub from his hand, smiling warmly as he made his way into the house, leaving Gwen alone in the rocking bench as she thought to herself quietly. She felt as though she was being pulled in twenty different directions, what between seeing her father, practicing with her band, fighting crime, finding a job; in the midst of it all, being yanked mightily by her mind's own wondering what her life was supposed to be. What she could look back on at her father's age.

She didn't remain outside for too long before making her way into her childhood house, finding it already dark from her father's retiring to bed. She made sure to only light up what she needed to in order to find her way, eventually making it to the kitchen, bending over and reaching into the cardboard pizza box and taking a single slice for herself, not bothering to heat it up before taking a bite. She leaned her back against the fridge, noticing the packing box sitting at the table, a vinyl sleeve peeking out at her as Gwen chewed her cold pizza, watching it unenthusiastically.

She slowly approached the table, taking a seat while continuing to stare at the box as though she were challenging it to a duel, apprehensively reaching out to grab ahold of its edge, pulling it closer to peer inside at its contents. Sure enough, it was a lot of her mother's old stuff that had spent years in storage, here in front it its owner's daughter, ripe for the picking to be evaluated after so long. There were some knick-knacks, like a ruler that Gwen was able to slap into her wrist to turn it into some mathematical bracelet, a old black and white checkered coat, complete with a massive collar that could be stretched upward to, essentially, form some armor, Gwen thought, a Fleetwood Mac vinyl album, which Gwen remembered was a favorite of her mother's.

She peeked over her shoulder, as if she were expecting a record player to appear out of nowhere, before quickly pulling out her phone and headphones, already downloading the album as she stood up to hunt down the trash can to dispose of her pizza crust. She then pulled her backpack from her shoulder, changed into her Spider-Woman outfit, and made her way to the door, careful not to make a sound as she left her father's home, knowing she had a home of her own to get to. At this hour, however, Betty was more than likely in for a rude awakening, she thought with a frown.

"Sorry, Betts; duty calls," she muttered to herself before blasting her music beneath her mask, her web shooters yanking her into the air as she made a spider-line toward the New York City skyline, ready to keep its streets safe in her father's retirement.


	3. A Calling Card

Victor Maroto tapped his finger on the outside of his car, just beyond the bottom rim of its driver's side window, keeping his head as low as he could while still allowing his eyes enough room to watch his rear-view mirror. Obviously fidgety, he whipped his head toward the passenger's side door, watching the glass-paned windows of the bank that sat there, just making out his accomplices' silhouette in the blurry glass that sat between them with 'Central Bank' sprawled across in fancy lettering. Victor bit his bottom lip tensely, spinning his head back to his dashboard, checking his car's gas for the twenty-seventh time, a massive _BOOM_ throwing his attention back toward the door as his partner in crime, Jahkay Moses, came rushing out, dollar bills streaming from a paper bag he had tucked between his arm and chest.

"Go! Go! Go!" he shouted out loud, sending Victor's eyes wide in horror.

The driver flung his hand into the steering wheel, a sharp pain dulling his nerves from the impact, though he rushed to find the ignition, revving the car and slamming on the gas, an ear-piercing squealing breaking the air as the old car puttered forward, finally resembling a motion that might be described as speeding off.

"Fuck, man!" Jahkay complained, throwing the bag of cash into the floorboard, turning to face his accomplice while spewing, "How the fuck did I get sent to you for a driver! Goddamn child would be better than you- I told you, straight up, have the engine running before I get out of there!"

"D-Did- Was it worth it?" Victor asked nervously, ignoring the other's furious speech.

Jahkay nodded, "Yeah, got a few hundred bucks. Not bad when you get one of these banks right before they close. With your stupid ass, during the day, we'd be in a jail cell right now."

He grumbled angrily to himself as Victor gradually began to slow his speed, integrating into the rest of traffic while Jahkay began collecting the bills into stacks, folding them and stuffing them into a secret compartment beneath the floorboard, keeping an eye on Victor to make sure he remained focused on the road.

"S-Sorry about that back there- I- My cousin figured I needed to learn to do _somethin'_ and-"

"Fuck, a greenhorn? I'm gonna have to give him shit next time I see him," Jahkay grumbled, "You'd better learn to pull a lever at some factory or something, man, 'cause you'll never cut it as a thief, especially in this city. Maybe in a town with, what, nobody living there, but here in New York? You've got-"

 _CLUNK_

Victor panicked, losing control of the wheel for a second before somewhat collecting himself, staring up at the roof with a wide-eyed horror, "W-W-W-What was that?!"

Jahkay has already reached for the pistol he had shoved in a holster at his side when a ghostly white face appeared from the top of the driver's side window, a purple inside of a hood falling down low past two like-colored eyes, Spider-Woman's eyes shrunken in intrigue as she stared at the driver, Victor's eyes nearly bursting from his head in terror. Jahkay threw his hand toward the opposing window, sending the back of Gwen's neck alight as she immediately pulled herself back up on top of the roof just as a loud _BANG_ rang through her ears.

"~Pick up the pieces and go home," Gwen sang quietly to herself as she rocked her head back and forth in time with the music in her earbuds,, suddenly eyeing the direction the car was going, figuring the driver, in his fright, had relinquished control, as the vehicle was careening straight into the wall of a large building.

Gwen fired her web into the corner of a parallel building face, simultaneously latching onto the opposite side of the car roof, feeling her arms burn with strain as the vehicle began arching in a wide turn toward a perpendicular street. Gwen grit her teeth as the g-forces rolled around her gut, a sudden blast of gunfire breaking her concentration as she stared down at the roof, a random pattern of holes appearing as Jahkay rapidly fired above the two passengers, trying to rid himself of the threat.

Just before he could fire into where Gwen stood, the car hit a proper track of road, allowing her to sever her webbings before jumping over to the passenger's side window, falling onto the side of the car as he adhered to its metal frame, meeting the man's eyes as he froze during reloading the weapon.

Gwen shot a burst of webbing at the gun that surrounded his hand, leaving it unable to reload as she grumbled to herself, "Here I am trying to keep you _both_ from doing something stupid…"

In a quick attempt at retaliation, Jahkay threw his hand out the window in an attempt at a pistol whip, though Gwen quickly dashed back up toward the roof, leaving the man to curse under his breath as he returned his attention to Victor with a shout, "DUDE! Get this thing-?!"

Victor was only sitting in his seat with his hands held up to defend himself, shaking mightily in terror, leaving the car utterly out of control as it barreled down the road, directly into the direction of a wooden dock that sat in the middle of an old pier. Jahkay quickly reached for the wheel, but unable to manipulate anything with his webbed left hand, he couldn't lean far enough across the console to reach the wheel, a look of shock running across his face as the car suddenly jumped as it ran off the road and onto the wooden planing of the dock, his eyes widening as the only track they had suddenly disappeared below the dashboard, with only ocean in his view as he felt the car lose any traction as it went airborne.

He shut his eyes, covering his face with his arms to brace himself, but all that came was a subtle buoyancy, almost as if they'd landed on a trampoline or something. He slowly opened his eyes, still meeting sky instead of ocean, his head creaking as it gradually spun to the side finding white tethers surrounding the car, keeping it from hitting the water below. All Jahkay could hear was Victor's quiet whimpering, though it was immediately overtaken by a feminine clearing of the throat, his eyes turning up to meet the same ghost white face from moments earlier, Spider-Woman tapping her foot against the dock with crossed arms.

"Cash money," she concluded underneath her music playing in her ears.

Gwen nodded in satisfaction as she stepped back from the two men she had so neatly bundled up back to back in a weave of web, the two criminals none too happy with being subdued, though the one who'd toted the gun was far more unruly as Gwen looked over her presentation for the cops. She approved, reaching into her pocket to remove her iPod, her eyes squinting as the 'pause' icon clearly showed, despite hearing the music plain as day in her ears.

"C'mon," she complained, tapping the screen repeatedly until the music finally stopped, "How can you be glitching after just three mon-?"

"Hmm! Mmm!" came the muffled cries of the gun-toter, earning a glare from Gwen as she walked back toward them, pulling a card from her iPod case and grinning proudly at the sight.

She conjured up a ball of web before using it as adhesive to attach the business card to the toter's head, earning a vicious stare from him as Gwen chuckled to herself, "You've outdone yourself, Spider-Woman! A+ for appearance, no doubt! But only if you two future jailbirds look good when they get here."

A vicious stare appeared before her as Gwen spun around, squatting down beside the paper bag of bills to begin collecting it in order to make it more manageable for the police to transport back to the bank, hoping to remain tidy for them, thought she stopped for a moment as the criminal's muffled shouts continued, shaking her head before jumping to her feet, spinning around, "Hey buddy, you-"

Her eyes narrowed as she watched his face sunken into a rabid sort of snarl despite his subduing, which broke from the usual pattern of baddies giving up whenever she had dispatched them, leaving Gwen slightly curious as to his resistance. She approached him and bent down, shaking her head with an unfortunate air.

"Sorry dude, this stuff sticks around for an hour. literally," she shrugged, "and I don't have any plans to be here when the police show up to…"

He began to jerk his head down toward his chest, directing her to his coat pocket, which Gwen obeyed, reaching in to find some sort of beaker, half-full with some sort of liquid substance. She pulled it up to her face to examine the odd concoction, which seemed wholly liquid, though left a gloopy sort of residue in its wake when she tilted it from side to side, like wine tears. Her lips turned curiously beneath her mask, suddenly noticing the man's head jerking once again to get her attention before his eyes repeatedly flew downward toward his mouth.

"What, is this supposed to dissolve it or somethin'?" Gwen wondered as her eyes constricted apprehensively, the baddie nodding to answer her.

She sighed, unplugging the vial and stepping forward, the man leaning his head backward to accommodate her as she muttered quietly, "Hey dude, it's your funeral."

The liquid ran across the webbing, coursing in between the minute cracks within the webbing, a gentle sizzling sound coming across the air as her webbing began to dissolve, causing Gwen to step back away in surprise. As the webbing dissolved however, she soon noticed his face, the skin that had sat beneath her web was now nearly worn away it was so raw.

"Acid..?" she asked aloud, though the man was in little mood to answer her.

He jerked his shoulders as he spoke with a venomous voice, "Look chicky, you gotta get the rest of this shit off of us; there's more of that stuff in his pocket."

"MMM?!" his partner cried out in terror, his head appearing over his shoulder.

"Okay, clearly you don't know how this works; I'm _Spider-Woman_ , alright? I fight criminals like you, take you out, and then leave you for the proper authorities to deal with," Gwen explained, almost in disbelief, "Surely you know _that_ much."

He snarled, his face spinning into a grimace, "No, you _have_ to get this fuckin' shit _OFF_! I mean it! And what the fuck's with this card shit?!"

"Oh no, no, no," Gwen replied, waving her hands from side to side, " _That's_ non-negotiable. That's, legit, my newest venture into branding; that's not coming off, like, at all."

"Kid," the man spoke lowly, his voice taking a serious tone, "You've _got_ to take this off. If we're found to have gone down like this…let's just say that acid is a better alternative."

"MM?! MMM!" his partner wailed frighteningly, pushing his feet into the ground in order to try to get some point across to the other.

Gwen sighed, lifting her head to address the frightened criminal, "Calm down, I'm not pouring anything other than a fresh cup of tea in a few minutes after I leave. and a mug-full of justice in a second or two."

She fired another ball of web into the man's face to silence him, which he obliged as such, merely watching her with a scowl as she turned to finish collecting the money, pulling the paper bag up and placing it just out of reach from the men's legs. She stepped back and rested her hands on her hips with a nod, approving of the scene just as sirens grew in the distance.

"Well guys, it's been fun, but I've gotta sling out of here. How was that? Too kitschy? Stupid? Meh, I'm working on catchphrases on the side," she gave a final shrug before launching her web up toward a nearby building, in a split second disappearing into the darkness as the two criminals awaited the cops, Jahkay remaining with a furious expression as he stewed there.

He knew, well enough, even if Victor hadn't a clue- even in a prison cell, with this webbing now surrounding them, they might as well be dead by next week.


	4. Gloria's Number-One 'Fan'

"'Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman'…" Jessica read from the tiny business card Gwen had shown her, roiling her eyes as her hand fell, "Where have I heard _that_ one before?"

"No no, you see the webbed italics? It's ' _FRIENDLY'_ , see? I want to emphasize _that_ part," Gwen explained, leaning over Jess' shoulder and pointing at the text upon the card, "I just stuck one on two bank robbers I snagged last night, and there's probably a handful more that's gotten back to the cops. I figure if they come around that I'm not terrible, the rest of the cards will fall into place. Jamison always panders to popular opinion anyway."

Jessica groaned as she handed the card back to her, leaning back in her chair and shutting her eyes, bringing a sheet of polished mirror sheeting to her chest to aim the sunlight at her face, "Look kid, I've been on every side of the law you can be, I've been down roads that haven't even been explored yet by those driver-less Google cars. And even then, I don't think I've ever been party to something so silly."

Gwen frowned, crossing her arms to demonstrated how unamused she found her words, "No more silly than going door to door like some pizza delivery driver asking a bunch of people how they're doing."

"How's that going by the way?" Jess wondered, barely concerned with her protégée's attitude, "The police don't care who you are or what your intentions are. All they see is a scary person who they can't keep tabs on. I'm telling you, if you get in with the people of New York; that's how you build a better public profile."

Groaning, Gwen fell to the rooftop to sit down, pulling out the folded-up slip of paper from her pocket and tossing it into Jess' pocket, "You'll be proud to find that I kept perfect accounts for each individual I visited."

Jess carefully dropped her arms as she put away her visor, "I tell ya, when you start having kids, you see less sun than a possum."

"That's the first nocturnal animal to come to mind?"

Pulling off her sunglasses, Jess eyed the lengthy list of names as she fell back in her chair, nodding and mouthing the words to herself that Gwen had written, "Colorful language."

"Imagine having to hear it," Gwen frowned.

"It's not all terrible; check out this one, Leslie Simpleton," Jess noted, pointing to the name as she turned the sheet for Gwen to read, "She said you were a ray of sunshine."

Gwen's lips fell, "She's also batting glaucoma."

Slightly detected, Jess went on, "Okay, this Edgar Wright. 'You're so'… What, you scratched it out?"

"Ugh," Gwen rolled her eyes, "I figured it was something a mother shouldn't have to see. If we're talking popularity though, I could wipe out a city block and still keep his vote."

Jess eyed her from over the paper, "Look, no matter the number of weirdos or ne'er-do-wells, you're still getting your friendly face out there. I call that progress; you're not just a scary thing in the darkness."

She began folding up the paper before handing it back, "I saw ten or so more names on there; next time I see you, I want them filled."

"Okay, okay," Gwen muttered as she returned the list to her pocket with a groan.

Jess watched her with a serious look while reaching for her visor once again, "You'll get to where you want to be. I hate to sound like a mom, but I am now; you've just got to work at it."

"My dad asked the same thing last night," Gwen sighed, earning her an inquisitive stare from Jess, "About where I want to be. I said I'd love to work with S.H.I.E.L.D., but… I don't know."

Jess asked curiously, "Don't know what? Whether or not to work on joining?"

"Whether I'm good enough…"

Sighing quietly, Jess sat her visor down once again, turning in her lounge chair so that her feet hit the ground, facing her toward Gwen as she spoke, "Look Gwen, there's a lot you proved when you got that watch that lets you even _be_ here right now, and-"

"The entire time I've been doing this assignment, meeting all these people that ended up injured during that Tombstone battle a few days ago… All it does is remind me of how I barely did anything."

Jess groaned, "Okay, so Captain America did most of the work, but have you a clue how insane _my_ world's Tombstone was? One person couldn't have done him in; you must have done some…"

She slowed to a stop at Gwen's gradual darkening face, quietly continuing, " _Okay_ , Captain America and a few others who you weren't able to get those self-portraits with."

"Selfies," Gwen frowned, "You really are a mom."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jess shrugged easily, "Let's ignore everything else, what all have you done since becoming Spider-Woman? You've taken out gangs, protected shop owners, common people; and come on, you've taken on some tough super baddies in your own right. You've done plenty to-"

"I killed my best friend."

Jess sighed as she awkwardly scratched her forearm, "Look, I said ignoring _everything_ else, even things that weren't your fault. If S.H.I.E.L.D.- If _WE'RE_ doing our jobs, protecting the people from galactic threats that they couldn't even fathom; if we keep them safe, do our jobs, they don't know us. It's heroes like you, Gwen, the ones they see every day, that gives us a good name. So forget about worrying about being good enough for S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers, whatever; you're good for the people of your city, and as long as you can earn their trust, you'll be doing just fine- you won't be any less than any one of us."

Gwen's eyes had already turned up in a hopeful glance, "You think I could be an Avenger?!"

"Totally missing the point, child," Jess groaned in defeat.

Smirking in reply, Gwen shook her head, "No, no, I got it; I was just teasing is all. You'd better get used to it, too, with a kid running around- super mischief and all that."

"I'll keep all ten eyes on him if I need to," Jess sighed, "If Gerry's as much trouble as you and Cindy, I'll probably have to just web him to a high chair or-"

"Eight eyes," Gwen corrected, having pulled her knees up to rest her hands as she scrolled through her phone, "Most spiders have eight eyes."

Jess rolled her two eyes, leaning back into her reclining summer lounge chair, now intentionally hiding her face with the visor, "Yeah. High chair webbing it is."

* * *

Em Jay sat on the bottom seat of the pull-out bleachers that sat across from their rehearsal space, her wrist held up to her face as she sat wholly focused on her watch as 6:00 rolled around. It took most of her muscular prowess to keep from tapping her foot, not want to appear any more like a brood than she already was, but Gwen was, once again, on pace for being late, a fact that bothered her to no end after their talk last rehearsal.

It was 5:57.

Gloria bit her lip as she brought the last drum over to sit atop its metal stand to complete the drum set, kneeling down to attach the two while Betty stood nearby, her hands in her pockets as she bent over low to watch, "You think she'll make it."

"'Course she will," Gloria replied with gritted teeth from trying to work the apparatus, "I know you two have given up faith in our girl, but I'm still on-"

"Please don't," Betty spoke in a low, monotone voice.

Gloria growled as she fought with the screws, finally jumping up as she finished putting it together, "I certainly will! I'm still on, hashtag, Team Gwen, regardless of what you two seem to want to believe."

Betty's hand ran down her face as she turned to set up her bass guitar, "Why do I even bother..?"

Grinning widely, Gloria went on, "What? Hashtag, Betty. I'm not doing anything strange that might bother you, except putting up this, hashtag, drumkit."

Betty groaned like a lost siren as she sunk into her chair, feigning pain as she clutched her head, "Please stop…"

"You likin' that new, hashtag, bass?"

 _BOOM_

Gwen dashed into the old community center, darting pell-mell toward her stool and falling into it mid-stride, sending it sliding across a rather far distance before she came to a stop, reaching down to pull it against herself as she waddled back toward her drums. Gloria proudly held her hands on her hips as she turned to see Em Jay walking over herself, dropping her arms with a shrug.

"5:59 and a few seconds. Good to have you here, Gwen," she spoke distantly, though with a light enough air that made clear she was at least trying to remain alight behind a gloomy disposition, "Alright girls, we've got a set lined up next weekend at a local tavern, a seedy little place called 'The Last Cashew' down on fifth."

Gwen's ears perked up as Gloria and Betty both turned toward Em Jay as well, "How'd you swing that?"

"I'm just magical," she explained with spread open arms, "That, and one of my coworkers is the owner's kid. Said his dad needed a band after someone bailed, so I whipped out my phone, showed him some of our tunes, and he said his dad loved it."

Betty squirmed in her chair, "I don't think The Last Cashew is the kind of place where people 'love' stuff…"

This caused a sigh to escape Em Jay as she went further, "Okay, he said he'd tolerate it until this other group got back, you happy? I figured it was a good chance to get back into the swing of things, seeing as how Gwen is back with us."

Gwen gave a mild smile, "Pretty sure I have the next day off, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"I also asked if there were any bar-pets," Em Jay frowned, "I know how Betty gets; I don't need her inching to the edge of the stage just to stare at a kitty in the corner- it throws off our synergy, and we look disorganized when we're not standing at our marks."

Betty frowned, "I just wanted a look at his bushy tail…"

Grinning, Gwen eyed Betty's guitar from just over her cymbal, "And you wanted to make better use of your hands than playing that thing; you wanted to dash off and pet the cat."

"Get Flash in there and she'd be trying to find an even better use for 'em," Gloria teased, sticking out her tongue as she tried to diffuse a retaliatory stare.

"Alright, alright; synergy, remember?" Em Jay sighed, "We just got our drummer back; I'm not allowing any more distractions. If Betty wants to play Flash like an instrument, she'll have to do it on her own time."

Betty frowned, "Not cool…"

Em Jay reached down to strap up her guitar, pointing toward Gwen as she spoke with a vigorous shout, "Okay, count us in on five; 'Face It Tiger', c'mon!"

* * *

Gwen slumped forward as she dropped her sticks to the ground, breathing heavily as Gloria threw her arms up into the air in triumph, "Talk about a killer set! Those guys at The Last Cashew?! We're gonna be the last band they ever need!"

Even Betty had risen to her feet, she and Em Jay trading off high-fives with Gloria before they all turned to Gwen, Gloria rushing around to her side as she patted her shoulders, "Great job, Gwennie! You killed it!"

"*huff* Good…" she replied, struggling with every breath, "I was… worried… during that…last number…"

Em Jay frowned at the sight before her, "Wow, you haven't even been practicing on your own. You look like a drowned puppy."

Fighting the urge to remain as she was, Gwen lifted herself straight up with a smile, "Nah, I'm… fine."

"Whatever you say," Em Jay muttered, "Just make sure you're in shape for the gig, alright? We can't have you pulling a Bonham and passing out on stage or anything."

"Duuude," Gloria cooed toward Betty, "What if Gwen were like Buddy Rich? Gwen vs. Mary Jane? I'd ship it."

"You don't even know what that means," Betty groaned as her eyes rolled, "Anyway, it's great to have you back Gwen."

Gloria agreed, "Hell yeah! That whole thing during our warm up where we started to slow, and you began gradually lowering the tempo so we didn't sound like hacks? Wonderful job! That's the shit we can't do with an audio recording, that's for sure."

Her breath having recovered somewhat, Gwen smiled, offering a thumb up, "Well, y'know, synergy and all that."

"Yeah, and this synergy has me thinking we all need to head to the Dollar Dog down the street and get something to drink; Em Jay's voice started sounding a bit raspy near the end," Gloria concluded with a casual shrug.

Em Jay's lips curled, "It's called 'sultry', thank you, it was intended."

"Did you intend to sound like you were trying to get a yellow ticket to Hollywood?" Gwen smirked widely.

"Y'know, I think we should definitely leave this line of critique and go get those drinks," Em Jay finally explained, she and Betty beginning to put aside their guitars as Gwen stood herself, receiving a hearty arm around her shoulder from Gloria as they walked toward the double doors.

"I missed you at your place of business the other day, speaking of; your boss said you'd called in sick?" Gloria asked, slightly concerned, given her friend's current disposition.

"She wasn't at our place," Betty muttered, throwing her two cents in from behind them.

Gwen turned her eyes away lowly, "O-Oh, yeah- I just had stuff to do; some papers to write for class. Lincoln had me beaten to a pulp."

"Ugh, I know," Gloria groaned, "I took history last year; some of Lincoln's writing is just meh."

The two approached the door, with Gloria taking the lead and spinning herself backward to speak to Gwen as she pushed the door open, backward, "No wonder you looked so sluggish on the drums! I bet you- OOF!"

Gloria slammed into something blocking her path, knocking her off balance as Gwen jumped to her side, skillfully grabbing around her to keep her aloft, looking up with wide eyes as she slowly pushed herself up, allowing Gloria to return to her balance. She quickly crossed her arms, sizing up the man who was standing just outside the convention center, just as Gwen took a few steps back to hold the door open for the others, hiding as best she could.

"Sorry about that," Gloria muttered, almost as if she'd been forced to, "We hardly see anybody out here; kind of why we come here to practice playing."

The man waved her off, "Oh no, I should be sorry. I heard the music being put out and kind of showed up to investigate. I didn't have the heart to come in and ruin your mojo or whatever."

"Ahh, it enraptured you, did it?" Gloria grinned proudly, "Well, any fan of our playing, I'm a big fan of! What was your favorite song? No, wait, I know, it was 'Canvasback Jack', right? or was it 'Smoking Stranger'? I have a kick-ass keyboard solo in that one."

He chuckled at her enthusiasm, shrugging sincerely, "Well, uh- I guess I kind of liked them all."

Before Gloria could interrogate him further, Em Jay and Betty arrived, with their red-haired leader taking to questioning Gloria first, taking an authoritative tone, given the general numbers of riff-raff in this part of time, "Who's the dude?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm Nick," he answered, offering a hand that wasn't reciprocated as Gloria spun around excitedly.

"He's fan #1! Said he loved our music!" Gloria explained happily, turning back toward him, "You want an autograph? Oh! I bet you'd _love_ to be our very first supporter on ! Forward-slash Mary Janes, good sir!"

Nick grinned, turning his face down to hide what might have been seen as a rude reaction, "I-I'll certainly consider it, I suppose."

"Gloria's the only one who'd get star-studded, despite being the star," Betty mouthed quietly.

"Exactly," Em Jay offered, pushing Gloria out of the doorway and walking out onto the sidewalk, stopping at Nick's side, "My apologies. She's too insistent for her own good."

Shrugging again, he answered, "No, I get it, I've done band stuff before. I was just passing by though; I didn't mean to cause a scene or anything."

"No scene," Em Jay confirmed, "If you're down, we're taking a break; if you wanted to stay and hang out, we'll be back in a few."

Nick's face turned as if he were thinking about accepting, finally coming to a, "Well, I was just out and about; if you don't mind, I guess I could stick around and listen to the- what was it? Keyboard?"

A bright grin shot across Gloria's face as she turned toward Betty, speaking in muted excitement "See?! Fan #1!"

Betty's eyes rolled, "Yeah, sure. Listen to the one playing 'Twisted Moods' off-key the entire song."

"Off-key?" Gloria wondered with concern, "Really?!"

"It was fine," Em Jay confirmed, shooting Betty a glare, "Quit getting her riled up during practice, please. Gwen, let's go!"

The three started off, leaving Gwen still inside the building, clutching the door to keep it open as she stood behind it, only her fingers remaining visible. Figuring the sooner the better, or at least, less awkward, she slid out and quickly walked to the sidewalk, keeping her head low and avoiding the courteous smile Nick showed as she passed, leaving her rushing to catch up with the pack. She felt her heart racing, just like it had been during her drum playing.

That was the man, she thought. She had seen him just yesterday.

Only that time, she was wearing a mask.


	5. Hiding Spider

Gwen kept to herself amidst the minor crowd surrounding the nearby Dollar Dog, stuffing her hands into her hoodie pockets and keeping her head down. Something about seeing somebody so soon after speaking to them behind a mask, it almost felt so incredibly disarming. Had she said something, might he have recognized her immediately as her superhero persona? The thought rolled around I her head, drowning out the chorus of murmurs that escaped the people who were surrounding the place, trying to make sense of a line that eventually led to a service kiosk.

"Goddamn!" Em Jay complained loudly, hopping into the air to search for the front of the queue, "My hair should be enough of a signal that they should let us through. You ever seen a red head in need of a soda? We're liable to pounce!"

Betty's lips remained curled upward as she fleetingly dreamed of admirers, her mind afloat above the entire city, "You think they'll throw jelly beans up at us where we're up on stage at the Garden?"

"Don't count on it," Em Jay complained with a scowl, "I'm sure you couldn't take any in, and if you bought any there, they'd be fifteen bucks a pop or whatever. Fuck, man, this line!"

Gloria reached over to pull Em Jay down, speaking with a lowered tone, "Patience, dude."

"Well patience kills. You ever seen a brain on stress?"

Betty was quick to assist Gloria in the endeavor, understand the foley of an upset Em Jay, "Just take a breath, alright? They put up a television since last time we were here; just watch the- Kitty!"

A cat had been weaving through the preoccupied crowd, running along ankles in hopes of food, quickly going airborne as Betty picked it up, snuggling with it against her cheek, "Aww, wittle thing."

"Aaaand there she goes," Gloria sighed, resting her hands on her hips, "Hopefully there's a surgeon around to separate the two."

Betty frowned, turning her head over her shoulder, "You're just jealous 'cause cats dig me. I can't help that I'm so loveable."

"Yeah, sure, I wanna befriend flea-balls," Gloria groaned.

Em Jay's eyes narrowed as she examined the two beings, turning a look up toward Betty with a careful voice, "I think it's less with how loveable you are and more to do with your ability to find food to give it."

Sure enough, the cat had its eyes glued to Betty's bag, which had a resealable bag of gummy candies just within sight, the cat's tail waving back and forth in want, forcing Betty to frown back at her friends, "Oh hush. My connection with these things is deeper than candy and you just can't handle that."

"I guess I can't," Gloria shrugged as the four of them sauntered down the line after a handful of customers had left with their hot dogs and corn dogs in their hands.

Em Jay shook her head, "This line, man. Gloria, I think your fan is gonna learn a lesson in bands being a no-show."

"Damn," Gloria groaned, her shoulders sagging, "And here I was excited for once. This was the most exciting thing for me since- Hey, check out the webbed avenger on the t.v."

Gwen's ears suddenly twitched as the three others turned their heads to watch the television, a news report coming over the wire showing two criminals being stuck in a police car, one atop the other, as the webbing kept them from being split apart. A picture of Spider-Woman suddenly showed on the screen beside the video footage as the anchor silently mouthed from the teleprompter.

Em Jay's lips spun with contempt, "Y'know, it's one thing when they're off doing stuff, but when it's so close to home? Man, it's freaky."

"I dunno; as long as they're only targeting criminals, I don't see the big deal," Betty replied, spinning a finger around the kitty's belly, grinning, "She's my friend."

Gwen's eyes shot open, her head jumping to stare at Betty, "W-What?!"

Em Jay and Gloria both turned to watch Gwen with a split between concern and confusion, Betty only watching her with a blank face as she pointed down at the kitty, "Uh, the cat. I just said she was my friend."

"O-Oh," Gwen weakly offered, her heart racing, "Sorry, I- My bad."

"Your bad?" Em Jay quipped suddenly, "It looked like you'd just been shot! I thought we were gonna have to wait for somebody to whip out a yellow card."

Gloria's eyes shrunk, "Wow."

Em Jay shrugged with indifferent, "Hey, World Cup Symkaria is going on; what else am I supposed to watch?"

The four of them starting moving along as the swiftness of Dollar Dog's service picked up, now seeing them in motion constantly as they winded through the queue line, Betty still in possession of her furry friend. Gwen kept her head down, happy that her friends' attention had been deflected elsewhere, keeping quiet even to the cashier as she bought her drink, meeting up with the others along the sidewalk.

"Okay, wittle buddy," Betty muttered sadly, already juggling a large drink with a cat in her arms, bending low to release the feline, "Go have many corn dogs for me, y'hear?"

"You don't even like corn dogs, B," Gloria groaned.

Betty replied simply, "Which is why I'd happily wish my life's allotment of them on any cat I find. or Gwen; the garbage is usually overflowing with the sticks before it gets taken out. Eww."

Half expecting Gwen to retort with an indictment of one of her own bad habits, Betty was struck quiet amidst her friend's silence, as Gwen merely remained with her head hung low. Betty reached over to tap Em Jay, and then Gloria, on the arms to catch their attention, both of them examining Gwen for a moment before returning to Betty, who began to mouth silently.

"Is she okay?"

Gloria's eyes narrowed as her inability to read lips left her lost, though Em Jay was quick to reply in silence herself, "Think it was that dude back there?"

Gloria shifted from one to the other, trying to make sense of their conversation:

"Might be. She was tired, but fine before-"

"Do they know each other?"

"How would I know?"

"You think-"

With a rabid zeal, Gloria reached out to grasp ahold of Gwen's shoulder, pulling her to the side as her blonde friend's face lit up in surprise, Gloria easily speaking up, "Dude! What's up? You've been in a bad mood ever since we left!"

Em Jay and Betty eyed one another, rather surprised by their third's ability to plow through such an obstacle, and turned to Gwen as she sighed before beginning to explain, rubbing her arm, "It's nothing; just… I don't know."

"It was that guy, wasn't it?" Gloria accused, defensively, "I don't need to get Betty on him, do I? She and Em will rip his-!"

"No, no," Gwen groaned, "Really, it's nothing. Just a funk, I guess, I don't know."

Em Jay frowned, "You've got a lot of funks lately."

Sighing, Gwen felt her face tighten as her lips curled in a tense, distancing expression, "I just feel like I've been strung up so tight in all directions sometimes. That's not to say my time with this band is bad or anything, I mean, I agreed to commit to it, but life's just… It's just got me bent over a barrel sometimes."

"Ugh, I know what you mean," Betty frowned, taking a sip of her drink, "Some of my college courses are murder, especially this time of year. You're in junior college though; what do you have to be stressed about? That's, like, the definition of stress-free learning, just doing your general ed., I mean."

"Well, school, work, band, trying to hang out with my dad since he retired," Gwen rattled off with a weak shrug, "I'm sure all those corn dogs Betty mentioned aren't helping either."

Quickly shaking her head, Betty replied, "No, they're not. A girl with hair like yours, you should be eating, like, not processed junk."

"Probably need more iron," Gloria opined with her straw between her teeth.

The two of them turned toward Em Jay to hear her suggestion, though their red-haired leader merely walked along with her same pensive look, as though she were prepared to tackle the problem into submission rather than figure it out. It didn't take much farther before her eyes suddenly strained, her head spinning toward the group, specifically Gwen, speaking in a critical tone.

"It's totally a boy."

"Oh!" "Ooooh!" Betty and Gloria both chimed, suddenly facing a shocked expression from Gwen as her own head whipped around to meet Em Jay's.

She quickly retaliated, "W-What?! That's ridiculous!"

Em Jay stopped, which instinctively forced the others to do the same, turning toward Gwen with a look of indifference before handing off her drink for Gloria to hold. She stepped toward her friend and reached her arms out, resting her hands on either of Gwen's shoulders as she lowered her head, meeting Gwen's eyes with her own.

"Look, I know the whole Peter thing probably still hurts. I know when I've had deaths in the family, some of them really got to me. I just think, if you really lose yourself in the band, it might help, y'know?" Em Jay spoke lightly, sincerely, "I'm just saying. You should always be honest with us; if you're not up for it, fine, but you definitely need to be around friends, at all times. You should hear how concerned Betty gets when you're off god-knows-where."

Betty gave a friendly enough smile as she joked, "If something happened to you, I don't know anybody else stupid enough to help pay rent, so…"

"Gee, thanks," Gwen replied with a smirk of her own, "Look, I get it guys, and thank you. I'll try to remember that."

"See that you do," Em Jay nodded, continuing down the sidewalk as the others followed, "I was being honest before; you play the drums like a fiend. Friendship aside, you're a pretty good asset for the band, and regardless of any of our plans for the future, this band is my plan-A, at least for now."

Betty nodded, "Yeah, you've got me at least until after college. Gloria?"

"Where am I gonna go?" she replied with a smug grin, "I already live in the greatest city in the world. I'm always gonna be a subway ride away from whatever scheme Em Jay is cooking up unless she's off fulfilling that dream of hers to backpack around Europe or whatever."

"That's a looong way off, if it even happens at all," Em Jay confirmed mutely, groaning with disappointment, "With the amount of money I'd need for that, the Mary Janes' would have to cut a clear swath of musical rampage from Midtown all the way up to New Rochelle, and that ain't happening, unless we get some killer gigs, so if I seem a bit irritable about being at our best for a dive like The Last Cashew, I'm just-"

Without stopping, Em Jay sighed as the group came back across the double doors of their practice space, her voice leaving her in defeated tones as her head fell forward, "And we can't even keep the people interested in us around."

Gwen's head perked up to find the space outside the building to be empty, Nick having left in their absence. She sighed in relief, quietly, her mind still having reeled from Em Jay's mention of her childhood friend, Peter Parker, though this new development helped distract her. Her heavy heart immediately lightened from the lessened pressure of having to see somebody she'd just spoken to as her alter-ego, minutes of decision making to alter her voice as well when she first took on her Spider-Woman persona having come back to haunt her. Surely he wouldn't have remembered her voice, but if her time as a superhero had been anything to draw from, she knew to expect little, while being prepared for anything.

"Ugh," Gloria sighed as she pulled the door open, walking into the center with a grumble, "I knew it was too good to be true. Maybe we'll get a hit online; I think I told him our site."

"He's our age, from the looks of it; if he's in college too, I doubt he'd have money lyin' around, especially if he's wandering around this neighborhood," Betty mused, turning into the main area where their instruments remained, "I'm sure he won't-"

She slid to a stop, taken aback by the sight of Nick sitting on the bottom row of pull-out bleachers, bent over himself as he scrolled through his phone, seemingly not having noticed their arrival. Her face went pail with shock, considering what he must have heard of their conversation, though soon enough, she noticed the white wires hanging from his ears, her shoulders sinking as she rolled her head along her shoulders in relief.

"Good thing he's got those buds in, B," Gloria managed as she passed her friend, heading toward her keyboard.

She shrugged in defense, now speaking quietly, "What? How was I supposed to know he'd come in here?"

Em Jay gave her a gentle push toward her guitar as she passed by her, on her way to get Nick's attention. Meanwhile, remaining very much in the shadows outside the basketball court, Gwen watched with worry as Em Jay crossed over the floor, suddenly figuring it better to already move to the drums so as to not raise any attention upon her. She hurried her way along, her eyes flashing side-long just as Nick's head shot up at Em Jay's approach, leaving Gwen to direct her foot beneath a stray cable, her balance faltering and sending her straight into the wooden floor with a loud _BANG_.

She bit her lip, fighting back like mad the blush that was working its way to her face, already feeling everybody's eyes on her. She pushed herself up and immediately rushed to her stool, bending low to conceal herself behind her drum kit, amidst the concerned glare of Betty from over her bass drum.

"You okay?" she wondered, quickly.

Gwen nodded immediately, remaining low as she grasped for her drumsticks, leaving Betty and Gloria to meet at their eyes, exchanging concerning frowns as Em Jay clapped her hands to get everybody's attention.

"Alright, ladies," she announced authoritatively, "Nick over there's taken a few music theory classes which, correct me if I'm wrong, makes him more qualified than any of us when it comes to that technical stuff. He said he'd listen in and see if he could offer some tips after we're through tonight, alright?"

Betty shined, "Wow, a fan _and_ a student of the craft! If he knows any of that web design junk, we might have to bring him on!"

"Heh," Nick chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he brought his hands together in thanks, "I appreciate the thought, but like I said, I _was_ in the whole band scene; I'm not exactly digging for a way back or anything."

Having turned into a frown, Betty grumbled to herself lowly as Gloria pushed her shoulder jovially, "Y'know, what was our again?"

"Hush," Em Jay spoke up, strapping up her guitar, "We may be trying to make a mountain out of an ant hill, but I refuse to resort to favors. You think Steve Perry called in favors?"

Betty's eyes fell as she thought for a moment, "You mean after he was with Journey?"

"Just- Okay?" Em Jay finished with a low tone, "C'mon, let's roll. Betty? Gloria?"

Nods.

"Gwen?"

From behind her drum kit, Gwen nodded, though her body remained low as Em Jay corrected her microphone's placement, only bringing up her elbows to sit atop her legs. More than feeling safe, she felt hidden back here behind her drums for some off reason. Even though she felt her spider-senses crawling along her spine like a centipede, the fact of her being hidden from sight was still a freeing thought. almost like how she felt whenever she pulled her mask over her face. Nick couldn't see how apprehensive she was now, nor could criminals see how unsure, naive, or scared she had been when she first put on her ghost-white mask. Without worrying about the fear on her face, she could frighten whomever opposed her with that mask.

She picked herself up, staring down at the ground as she forcefully slammed her drumsticks together.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

And she could do the same with her drums; shake others to the core, despite hiding behind this messy assortment of percussion.

Hiding from those eyes that looked so much like Peter's.


	6. A Hero's Requiem

Gwen had spun around on her stool as she packed up her stuff to leave, working slowly to listen to the others as they spoke, though it was easy enough, given Betty's enthusiasm. They had just completed a second set, to Nick's approval, and Betty had been doling out high-fives like Halloween candy, though Em Jay wasn't interested. She was prepared for any and all critiques Nick might have had, and as he approached the group, she crossed her arms confidently.

"Well? What'd ya think?"

Nick smiled, his hands pulling out of his pockets as he started motioning with them, following his input, "I mean, honestly, it was pretty good. Your allegro was great, and I liked the deceptive cadences; it really should hold your audience's attention as long as it doesn't go on _too_ long."

Her eyes small, Gloria leaned over toward Betty to whisper to her, "What does that all-"

"Your style is fast," Nick explained with a smile accompanying a gently nod, "Kind of lively, which is great for shows. and you appear to close out songs only to ramp them up again. It's a fun kind of thing."

Em Jay grinned, "I mean, I just figured we'd do what I usually hear at clubs and stuff. To be honest, before we started this whole thing, I spent a solid month, almost every night, going to bars and listening to local bands."

"There's some good stuff coming out, but that just makes it that much more difficult to be noticed, you know?" Nick explained, rather mutedly, "No one could doubt your energy, and especially the ferocity of your lead singer, but your music is still kind of raw. The more you play, the more it'll even out."

Recognizing how such a phrase was sure to kindle some more focus on her from Em Jay, Gwen felt a shot of numbness run down her legs, hiding a sigh as she shoved her drumsticks in her bag. Her eyes were low and tired, already exhausted mentally before having started, but especially more so having played her heart out, once again.

"Your drummer is top-notch, though," Nick suddenly spoke through her absentmindedness, sending tension across Gwen's shoulders as she remained bent over her bag.

"Aww yeah!" Betty happily praised, walked over to Gwen to pat her back, "Gwennie's a beast!"

Nick went on with a friendly smile, "I don't know what you guys have having her do to train, but it's working, no doubt. Keep it up and she might be what makes you guys stick out."

Gwen rolled her eyes as she returned to her packing, her heart dropping as Em Jay's voice caught her ear, "Well the least you could do is thank the guy, Gwen, geez. Not like he didn't spend an hour-"

"It's fine," Nick assured with a quiet laugh, "I'm more of a listener than a talker myself."

"Still," Em Jay frowned, "That's a pretty big compliment, Gwen, damn."

Sighing to relieve her pent up tension, Gwen pulled herself up and spun around toward their guest, not meeting his eyes, but watching his chin instead as she spoke, her voice tinged with a quietly regretful distance, "Thank you very much."

"It's no big deal," Nick reminded, "I'm just happy to offer any input that I can. It's nice listening in front of a band again, anyway."

Gloria narrowed her eyes curiously, "Yeah, I was meaning to ask, what all did you used to do in the music world?"

He cocked a distant sort of grin, "Marketing and publicity, actually."

"Oh, come on," Betty fired as she worked her way back around the drumset, "You can't tell us _that_ and then tell us you're out of the game! You _just_ basically said all we needed was a chance to break the mold!"

Nick chuckled, bowing his head low to avoid their pleading eyes, "Sorry, but like I said, I'm not about that stuff anymore."

"But-!" Betty continued, though was immediately interrupted by Em Jay's sudden, angered glare.

Their red-haired leader returned to Nick, "Well, we do appreciate your advice regardless. If you ever change your mind, I hope you remember our "top-notch" drummer, as it were."

"If it comes across my mind, trust me, the Mary Janes will be the first to know," Nick assured with a nod.

Still perturbed by her silent reprimand by her leader, Betty had already begun packing up her stuff as well before Em Jay turned around to give the directive, "Alright, that's enough for tonight. Let's pack up, get those drums in the supply closet, and close on out of here."

As the band started to clean up, Nick remained behind to help where he could, starting with helping Gloria with her keyboard stand, much to her happiness as she began, "Ah, still can't get enough of my playing, eh? Number one fan, right?"

Nick humored her with a knowing point of his finger toward her, earning a giggle from the keyboardist as Betty groaned from across their practice area, "You don't have to do that, ya know; she tells her mom that she's her number one fan every time we see her."

"B!" Gloria pleaded, much to Nick's silent amusement, "I've got an image here, y'know!"

The keyboard stand went down as the two continued bickering, though Nick moved on as Gloria finished up, starting on disassembling Gwen's drum set, which immediately earned him a sudden stare from Gwen as though he were infringing upon sacred idols. She was bent over, with her eyes just barely breaking through her blond hair, as she did so, Nick quickly pulling his hands away with a smile.

"Sorry, I should have asked," he concluded sincerely with open palms.

Gwen's eyes remained fixed on him, though Em Jay was quick to avail herself over any of her replied, "C'mon, Gwen, let's just get out of here. Let him help."

Their eyes still fixed on one another, Nick remained with his hands held back, awaiting the drummer's instruction, which came soon enough as Gwen turned her head back to her work, blowing her hair out of her face as she continued unscrewing the stand next to her, "Go ahead."

Nick nodded graciously, as if he weren't the one being offered help, and slowly began to work on the stand he'd started with, deciding it better not to try and force small talk and instead remain ready for any questions from the rest of the band.

"Wait, wait, wait," Betty began loudly, turning suspicious, "We're just assuming this guy was any good, right? Maybe he's not in the band game anymore because he got some guys a gig at the Daily Planet or something?"

Nick laughed as Em Jay seemed to take Betty's comment, "Yeah, were you any good?"

"Pretty good," Nick admitted modestly, "I'm pretty good at negotiating, which is a great asset when you're bar-hopping. I can read poker faces like nobody's business, probably because I spent a lot of time with my grandpa growing up, and all we did was play poker. and trust me, if you can call that man's bluffs, you can walk with the best of 'em."

He pulled down the first stand before moving on, "This one time, I was working with these guys, Placid Karma, and the bar wanted to pay them _after_ their set, which, by the way, _never_ do- most of the time, they'll just stiff you. But I managed to not only get the payment up front, but got a higher payout than Placid'd even gone in thinking they were gonna get."

"Wow, how did _that_ go down?" Em Jay asked with shock, "You're not a thug, are you?"

"No no no," he admitted with relief, "I figured out he had his nephew's band playing weekends, but they'd bailed for one night to play uptown, so he was just looking for a band for one night, see if he could get off for free, seeing as how he'd never see them again. I got them his nephew's usual, which was stupid high to begin with."

Em Jay watched him as he recounted the story before returning to her cleaning up, "Man. If we had money to bribe you, fuck, we could use somebody like that."

"You won't work on corn dogs, will ya?" Betty asked, even more sincerely than was necessary.

Nick grinned, "Sadly, no. Constantly working is just very grinding and all that, so I stepped away. Especially this low on the totem pole, bands have to work at it, constantly, you know? It just became to much for me."

The three band member's eyes falling, it was Gloria who muttered first, "Well, you certainly make it sound like work when you say that…"

"Nah, it's fun for the right people," Nick stood up as the band finished up their work, each of them grabbing a drum and stuffing them into a pad-locked closet.

As they began toward the doors, Nick offered one final slice of information, "Just keep at it. Though, that shouldn't be too difficult; your band leader seems bound and determined to do just that."

"Oh, I'm all in on this shit," Em Jay assured with a fire on her tongue, "As long as everybody else is in on it as well, we'll get high enough that you'll regret not coming aboard."

"Hell yeah!" Betty shouted, quickly lowering her tone, "No offense or anything, dude."

Nick gave a thumbs up, "None whatsoever; I like the attitude. Give 'em hell, I always say. especially your drummer."

Gloria and Betty both gave Gwen a congratulatory pat on her back, though she replied with very little as she remained enclosed as much as she could within her hoodie. Her head down, she was thankful that the conversation continued without her input, leaving the group to disband at the sidewalk without her having to say much of anything else. The whole night had been an exercise in futility for her, at least outside of her playing. More than anything, the praise she received reminded her of just how happy she'd been that her identity was concealed.

As much as praise bothered her, she shuddered at the thought of the opposite; those same derogatorily charged words to describe Spider-Woman being used to describe Gwen Stacy as well.

* * *

Gwen sat on the edge of her bed with her feet side by side, examining her toes with disinterest merely to amuse herself as she waiting for Betty to finish up in the bathroom. It had started when she released the remnants of bruising that sat at her skin, a result from the many flying kicks she'd delivered in her days as a crime-fighter, realizing that, soon enough, they'd probably callous up and turn into ugly looking pads with which she walked on. She would often lose herself in her white outfit, putting any and all thoughts of her well-being to the side, but on nights like this, especially when Betty was so fixated on her own body, Gwen would suddenly be aware of the toll her own body had been taking.

She reached down to rub the outside of her big toe with her thumb, frowning at the callous that rested there, looking like a slight bump on her toe. It seemed so out of place, she thought; for such a tomboy growing up, she couldn't help still feeling a sense of self-awareness now.

Betty left the bathroom with a loud bang of the door, her electric toothbrush buzzing as it hung from her mouth, her hands scrolling through her phone and her hair wrapped in a towel. Betty's eyes slacked as she stared at the screen of her phone, reaching a hand up to pull her toothbrush out as she spoke up.

"Hey, would you come to this film festival if I went? I know the others wouldn't care," Betty muttered through a foamed mouth, returning to brushing as she awaited Gwen's reply.

She frowned, "Maybe, I don't know. My schedule and all."

"I get it," Betty shrugged, turning around, "Just figured I asked. We're roomies 'n all; I figured I might as well keep you involved."

"Yeah, I get it. Thanks for doing that."

She heard a laugh from the bathroom before Betty spat out her toothpaste, the sink squealing as she turned the water on to rinse, "Anytime. I've always admired your ability to stay busy; I'd probably be far better off if I wasn't as laid back as I am. My father says as much, anyway, but whatever. You even have that job still, right?"

"Uh huh," Gwen answered, "I mean, it got lit the fuck up, but my boss wants me back since he thinks I'm a hard worker. He's even paying me a third of my pay, work-free, just to make sure I don't go off somewhere else while the store gets put back up."

The water shut off, "Man, that's cool. that you have that kind of loyalty, that is. I'd probably use up all my sick days in the first week, honestly; just college and the band is nuts."

She shut the light off as she waded through the steamy air outside the bathroom, pulling the towel around her shoulder to her ear to dry as she sat beside Gwen on her bed, tinkering with her phone as she spoke up, "Y'know, we're all worried that you might be doing _too_ much, right? I mean, if you ever went to full-on college? Damn, you'd probably be falling asleep on the sidewalk."

"I'm fine," Gwen sighed.

Betty frowned, putting her phone down, "Uh, newsflash, no you're not. Do you even know how dark your eyes are these days? How tired you always are? Gwen, when we first moved in here together, you couldn't get enough of living in the city for once. You dragged me out every night, to 24/7 pizza parlors, that midnight laser tag place; I think there was an underground art gallery in there somewhere? Now look at you; you can barely stay up to shower!"

"If I knew I was running out of gas, I'd be able to tell," Gwen spoke in reply, "I watched my dad crash enough times from overworking himself; I know what it looks like, okay?"

"Okay, okay; I was just voicing out concern," Betty replied, weakly, before reaching her arms around Gwen in a hug, "We're just concerned about our blonde girl, that's all."

Gwen eyed her suspiciously, "Bond? or blonde?"

"Hehe, either of them," Betty confirmed, hugging her friend tighter, "We're roomies, alright, so you can tell me anything that's going on."

She took on a serious, macho-like face as her voice deepened like a wrestlers', "We're in this together, man!"

This caused a smile to appear at Gwen's face, "I know, I know. Thanks, Betty."

"Anytime, buddy," she replied, jumping to her feet and making a dive for her own bed, "Now I need to check social media and find out what Flash is up to! Oh, and "at Eddie Brock" is up to lately; he's totally on the radar since that raid on WicDonalds. With his Instagram, it's like being buddy-buddy with a crime fighter!"

Gwen had already made her way to the bathroom, able to hide her grin as she shut the door behind her, allowing a sigh to escape her as she reached down to start the shower.

"You have nooo idea, B," Gwen muttered to herself with a smirk.

Her expression only worsened as she turned back around, watching her face in the mirror. Sure enough, her eyes seemed so dark, as though she hadn't slept in a week. She bit her lip at the sight, groaning as her hands rose up to cover her face, rubbing up and down to try and massage herself, the toll of her many lives coming to the fore now that she thought about them. The more Em Jay demanded her time, the more crime seemed to pick up around the city, the more she felt guilty about not seeing her father now that he was retired, the more Jessica Drew would have her 'build character'. The more she felt any chance of her ever doing any better than protecting New York were all slipping away. She couldn't even do that well, she remembered.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. All this negativity would leave her after a good night's sleep, she knew, thankful that she was taking a night off from being Spider-Woman after having not done so for a handful of months now. It was nice to hear a friendly voice outside of band practice for once, all of Betty's annoying little habits seeming like endearing qualities, Gwen thought, grinning as she put up the bathroom counter where her roommate routinely left a mess after her showers.

With the water reheated, Gwen reached down to the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head, her eyes sinking as she caught the first glimpse of just how bruised she'd been from her battle with Tombstone just days ago. She dropped her shirt as she approached the mirror, running a finger down in a circle around her stomach, tracing the outline of one of the vicious ones. She couldn't feel it as a painful malady, she figured as a result of her superpowers, but still, such an effect couldn't be good for her, she knew.

She weakly worked her bra off, her face dark as she realized how battered she appeared. She'd never been too thrilled about much when it came to her appearance, but with a litany of bruises covering her skin, she felt particularly repulsed by her appearance. She wouldn't ever have a chance at anything in life beyond what she already had, she knew. There would only be more bruises, more stress, and as long as she was the evil Spider-Woman, nothing to show for any of it.

Finishing undressing, she avoided her reflection as she stepped into the shower, praying that she was washing off more than her skin beneath the rushing torrent of hot water.


	7. A Little House in Queens

The darkness came down upon the streets of New York like a sheet of dread hanging beneath the night faces of its endless buildings, particularly on these moonless nights, leaving every street, every alley, darker than the next. Despite its nightlife, the city couldn't remain lively throughout, not every night, leaving those those nights where the underbelly of the neon-colored paradise was exposed to those truly paying attention.

Or, perhaps, this darkness helped the better of us to act with the best of intentions, hidden from praise.

On this night, one might find this very sort of man, his head hanging low below raised shoulders, a hoodie draped overtop his head as he clung onto a backpack over his shoulder. His gait was practiced; although the walked speedily, with every vehicle passing by, he readied each step, slowing to the speed of a mere pedestrian, showing off to nobody but himself this particular skill he'd honed over countless dark nights.

The man crossed the streets of northern Manhattan, quietly slinking into ever-darkening alleyways, his shoes pattering against soft puddles of water while working his way toward an approaching cluster of homes, all huddled together in a line along the street, leaving this man with only to count before turning into one, clapping at the water upon the stairway as he worked his way up, and slowly injected his keys into the door, softly pushing his way indoors.

Just as quietly closing the door, greeted by a darkness far greater than that of the outside, the man spun toward the interior of his home, his shoulders collapsing as he was greeted by a far-off light being turned on, revealing his wife sitting in her favorite chair, arms quickly crossing in dismay as she watched her husband slide his backpack from his shoulders, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well?!" she asked with Jersey twang.

He eyed her absently as he brought his bag up to the couch, rummaging through it, " _Well_ , what?"

His wife frowned, "Well where have you been, Jake?! You know it's two in the goddamn mornin'! I had to work in our daughter's IV before her bedtime; you know I hate havin' ta' do that shit!"

Jake shook his head while pulling out his work uniform, dropping it at his feet as it grew into a strewn pile of oily clothing, "I was workin' late. We all have to make sacrifices."

"Excuse me?" his wife shouted, jumping to her feet, "Jake-"

"Donna?"

She scowled, walking up toward him with a twisted face, " _Jake_ , I told you when this all happened, _I cannot_ do this without you! I don't know if you're out at bars or doin' whatever, but when I _need_ you, I-"

"I ain't going to any bars," Jake confirmed with a firm tone as though offended that his word wasn't good enough, "I told you already, I had to work late."

Donna frowned, "Well I'd like nothing more than to call whoever and lettem know my husband is working seventy-hour weeks! Jake- Jake!"

She followed along behind him as he collected his work clothes and started toward the kitchen, Donna continuing to angrily pry, "I know you ain't the type'a man ta' be cheatin'; that's why I love you. But I need t' know that you aren't-"

Jake immediately spun around with a dark look on his face, eyeing his wife severely, "I know what you're getting at. Now I had a shit day at work today, babe; I don't need you bein' like this. I worked late; that's where the story ends, got it?"

Instead of using such a tone as a means to recoil, Donna merely frowned defiantly as Jake turned his back around to continue into the tiny laundry closet, working the lid open on the washer before dunking his clothes into the machine, leaving Donna behind him as she crossed her arms, leaning against the threshold.

"He showed up again today."

Jake muttered, "Well, did you let him in?"

"No."

He groaned, Jake's head dropping in amazement as he complained, "Goddamn it Donna; for fuck's sake, he's like family to me. I told you to-"

"He's a criminal!" she accused, throwing a finger toward the hallway.

Jake nearly slammed the washer shut, though quickly thought better of it as his daughter came to mind, his little girl sleeping just a few feet away in her room. He sighed angrily, taking a breath as he shook his head, warding off his upset before spinning around and speaking with a calmer voice.

"Donna, that was years ago; he-"

"I don't care!" she went on, "How many people did he put into a hospital again? I don't want him anywhere near my daughter!"

Jake crossed his arms as he leaned back against the running washer, shaking his head, "She's _my_ daughter too, and I know just as well who she's safe around. Now, I ain't staying out late and gang-bangin' with Gerry, or whatever other shit you have cookin' up in your brain. He's got his own life, and when he needs help, I'm there for him. And _you're_ my wife; I'd like to think he'd be like family to you, too, and you'd be there for him just the same. If you gave him a chance, you'd see what I do."

The argument's conclusion ending outside of her favor, Donna scrunched her lips together angrily, "He lives out on the streets, Jake; god knows what all he gets on him!"

"Well you won't let him stay here and get on his feet! What else is he supposed to do?" Jake shrugged defiantly.

She pressed on heatedly, "The last thing we need with Hanna's treatments is for her to get sick. By every measure, that man is all kinds of trouble, and Hanna-"

* * *

As the raucous fluctuations of shouting and even speech flew through the small home, leaving very little in the way of peace and quiet, it made its way through the thin walls, faintly finding its way into the wars of the couple's daughter, Hanna, curled up in bed with her pillow strewn around the back of her head, covering her ears as her eyes remained fallen in sadness.

She reached up a loose sleeve from her pajamas to wipe her face, taking in a sniffling breath as her teary eyes trailed down her other arm, watching the small key-fob of a thing curled up in her fist, her thumb rapidly pressing against a red button that released the soft red glow from the piece's end. She hated to hear her parents argue. Although she'd gotten beyond the point of blaming herself and her illness for their discourse, the idea still floated along the winding corridors of her mind, and on tireless nights like these, she hadn't much in the way of a refuge from her parents' shouting.

Just as a weakening whimper left her after another rousing cry from her father, a gentle knock came from across the room, leaving Hanna to sit up in expectation, watching the blinking red dot that sat low in her window pane, matching that of her key-fob. She quietly slid out from her bed, careful not to remove the IV that hung embedded in her arm, and shifted toward the window, silently sliding it along the window frame until the dark silhouette of a man arose there, his head turning left and right as though to check on anybody perhaps watching him.

Another sniffle from Hanna, though she managed quietly enough as she wiped her tears along her sleeve once again, "Hey Uncle Gerry."

"Kiddo…" the man muttered lowly, "What's wrong?"

Hanna managed weakly, "Mom 'n dad're fighting again…"

"Oh…" Gerry replied sadly, his lips turning with dissatisfaction, "Not too bad, is it?"

"It's been worse, but I _hate_ it," Hanna complained lowly, burying her head in the space between her torso and the window.

Gerry frowned at the sight, greeted by the young girl's bald head, a feature that had so troubled her back when she'd first been diagnosed. He managed a ginger arm through the window, clutching Hanna's shoulder and rubbing his thumb along her, trying whatever he could to comfort the eight-year-old whom had suffered enough for this lifetime.

"Hey, remember when we all went to Coney Island and saw the Wonder Wheel?" he asked with a heart-felt tone, earning him a quick giggle from the girl.

"Hee hee, yeah," she sniffled, "Daddy was so scared, so you had to carry him into one of the cars."

Gerry laughed, "Yeah, that's right. Well, look here."

He reached into his thick coat pocket, rummaging around for a moment underneath Hanna's curious stare, before giving an approving gasp, bringing his hand up to the window. Hanna leaned close, her mouth wide in awe at the sight- a replica ferris wheel, save for the spoke structure, made out of paper clips, from the look of it.

"Wow!" she gasped in surprise, quickly grabbing the model and bringing it closer, "It's so cool!"

Gerry shrugged, "Thought you'd like it. I made it the other day, but- You know, why don't you keep it?"

"Really?!"

He grinned, "Yeah, I mean, it'll be safe with you, right? You'll take good care of it?"

"Well, duh!" Hanna replied enthusiastically, "I haven't broke any of 'em yet!"

Gerry nodded with approval, "Good, good. I know it'll be safe with you."

Happily so, Hanna rushed into the darkness of her bedroom, out of Gerry's sight as he squinted to try to get a read on her, though soon enough, she'd returned, beaming with a smile as she held a tiny box in her arms, lifting them up for her uncle to view.

"See?" she explained happily, "I keep 'em all here. There's the Eiffel Tower out of scrape, and the-"

"Scrap, sweetheart."

"Yeah, outta scrap!" Hanna corrected, pointing into the plastic box with her free hand, "The pyramid made from those plastic blocks for multiplying. I've kept 'em all safe!"

Gerry smiled at her diligence, "Awesome. Y'know, you'd make a great librarian or statistician or somethin' like that. You keep everything in such good order."

"Eh," Hanna frowned, "I kinda wanted to be a astronaut when I grow up. Something exciting, y'know?"

Gerry smiled, "Oh, really? Well you'd be great at it, too! You'll have to work hard though, you know? Get good grades when you get back into school and- Your parents will help you get there."

With a dreary frown, Hanna explained, "Well, momma gets so upset whenever I start talking about stuff like that… She'll start crying and- I dunno. I try not to talk about it."

Gerry's heart tugged in his chest, "How've you been feeling?"

"Not too good," she admitted sadly, "I feel like I'm gonna puke all the time. Momma gets so worried all the time about that, too. I hate it."

Gerry put on a warm smile, reaching in to rub the girl's shoulder, "Well you just have to keep being strong. I'll let you in on a secret, Hanna; even if you weren't sick, your mom would still be findin' plenty of stuff to worry about with you. Your dad, too. That's just what parents do, you know?"

"I guess," Hanna muttered in frustrated reply.

Smiling softly, Gerry pulled his arm back out through the window, "Sounds like they've stopped talking loud for now. Are you gonna be okay?"

Hanna nodded slowly, "Yeah… Like you said, I gotta be strong."

"Well," Gerry answered, "If you need any help with that, just click that key-fob and I'll come running, alright? Uncles worry just as much as parents do, y'know, and we help out all the same."

He leaned forward as Hanna reached out her arms for a hug around his neck, "Okay, Uncle Gerry."

"There's a good girl," he replied warmly, "Now lock the window back and get some sleep. Strong girls need their sleep, and their vegetables."

Hanna made a twisted face in disgust, "I _hate_ veggies!"

Her uncle chuckled as he pulled away, "Okay, maybe just start with your sleep then. Goodnight, sweetheart. Love you."

"G'night, Uncle Gerry," Hanna answered, reaching up to shut the window, "Love you too."

She slid the window down with a smile before returning to the dark exterior of her bedroom, leaving Gerry to step back out onto the sidewalk, his hands stuffed into his pockets and shoulders raised to shield himself from the chilly air of the night.

* * *

Jake tightened his lips, his crossed arms pulling closer into his chest as he avoided his wife's sigh. She ran two fingers along her eyes in exasperation, having been up hours beyond her normal bedtime already. Donna watched her husband with a mournful frown, his body language so guarded as he leaned back against the wall of the laundry room.

"I'm sorry," she allowed, her voice low, "I know ya ain't out doin' nothin' wrong, I just… I'm already a mess of'a woman without our daughta' dyin' n'…"

She wiped away a tear, shaking her head, "I sometimes wonder… how often ya might want ta just leave us behind 'n-"

Her hand rose to cover her weeping face, catching Jake's attention before immediately pushing himself upright, taking a step to embrace his wife, his hand quickly running along her back in a comforting caress. Her hand darted away from her face to press into her husband's chest, her fingers weakly forming into a fist along a handful of fabric from his undershirt, painfully so.

"I told you back when we got married," Jake reminded, "I know you've had bad relationships in the past. I told you then, and I still mean it now- if I have to spend every day provin' to you that I'm not cheating, or that I'm thinking of leaving, I'll do it. It'll frustrate me, it'll make me angry sometimes, but you and Hanna are my entire world, 'n everything I do is because of you two, alright?"

He continued running his arm along her back until she nodded into his chest, all the answer he needed, "Okay. C'mon, you look affright. It's late; let's just-"

His phone began to vibrate in his pocket, forcing his hand to reach in to check it as he continued, "We'll go get some sleep and- Ah, fuck."

"What?" Donna asked quietly.

Jake groaned, his effort to calm his wife down having gone to waste, "It's Gerry. Wanting to have a drink."

Donna shook in his arms before pulling away, revealing her crooked face, "Well ya gonna tell 'im it's two in the mornin', right? We both got work tomorrow!"

"He might need something, I don't know; he sent him away earlier, and if he needs-"

"Jake!" Donna interrupted.

Her husband raised his hands in innocence, "I'll tell him, alright? You seem convinced that he's trying to ruin our lives- The last thing he wants is for us to be fighting."

"Well, he's gotta-!"

 _Knock knock_

Donna's brow fell angrily as Jake looked up from his phone, not completing his reply, sighing lightly before dropping his arms, "Look, I'll take him around the house. We'll have one beer- _one_ beer. Okay?"

A frown still on Donna's face, she shook her head before turning to leave down the hallway, ostensibly leaving Jake to act as he would without argument. He still managed another groan as he massaged his face, making his way toward the door, cursing under his breath with exasperation.

* * *

"Yeah, and the boss-man was ridin' us all that week," Jake recounted with a shake of his head, sliding down into his lawn chair with a mournful twist of his lips, "Never did finish the project, but what could we've done?"

Gerry shrugged, taking another swig of his bottle, "I dunno, man. Shit's off the rails everywhere these days. If it ain't the corporations, it's the bosses; if it ain't them, fuck, we've got people in there pajamas running across the city beatin' up crime lords. Like I always say-"

He emulated his brother, slumping lower in his chair, "Throw those stats away. None of 'em affect _me_ at all. World's safer than it's ever been? Eh, I can't see it."

Another swig led Gerry into a satisfied gasp of air, staring up toward the stars above the two of them, going silent as if lost in thought. Jake did much the same, though he turned in his chair to grab his third bottle, readying its neck against the thick wood of the chair arm, slamming his fist into the top to pry the cap off, rolling into a comfortable spot in his seat again before taking a sip.

"So, why'd you come around?" Jake wondered aloud, "Queens is pretty outta your way."

Gerry clicked his tongue, "Eh, just a little business. Gotta check in on the little one, y'know."

He felt a vicious stare on him, grinning mischievously as Jake muttered aloud angrily, "Quit callin' me that. I'm, like, _two_ years younger."

"Heheh," Gerry chuckled lightly, aiming the top of his bottle toward his brother, "Still got ya beat, though. 'n I live out on the streets!"

Jake gave him a glare, "I'm not so sure that's anything to be proud of, but okay."

"Hey," Gerry replied with an even tone, "Least I don't gotta wife bustin' my balls. Speakin' of, your wife's still got a grudge against me?"

Giving his brother an unamused look, Jake answered with uninspired words, "Yes; not that it'll change so long as you're determined not to change her mind."

"How do I do that?" Gerry wondered, "I don't even know why she hates me. What, 'cause I'm gay?"

Jake groaned, "God, Ger, no. It's just-"

"She afraid I'm gonna steal her husband?" Gerry teased with a wry grin, reaching his foot over to give Jake a playful tap in the knee.

"Fuck, no," Jake retorted distastefully, though a silence crept in, forcing the two toward an air of seriousness as the younger brother mulled over the words in his head before pressing on, "It's just- You're sick. With Hanna doing chemo, we just can't have her around that stuff."

"Ah," Gerry nodded slowly, "She wouldn't be the first."

Jake replied, "Ger, it's not-"

"No, I get it," Gerry shrugged, "Y'know, they say love gets you outta everything. Like it's a superpower or some shit. They never mention how it can kill ya."

His eyes ran toward his bottle as he swirled the dark liquid inside, watching it with a downtrodden gaze. Jake's lips ran to the side, his own eyes staring at nothing in particularly as he sadly ran over Gerry's words, ultimately shaking his head with disdain.

"Y'know, every day I tell myself you should'a gotten that vaccine and not me," Jake muttered quietly, "I tear myself up over it every day."

Gerry grinned, "Look kid, I'm two years older than you. I gotta responsibility, little brother, to make sure _you're_ safe. I can take care of myself. Look at me; I'm homeless, I can't get a job, but I can manage. A wimp like you wouldn't a' made it as far."

He chuckled, hoping Jake had gotten his teasing, though his brother failed to reply in kind, forcing Gerry to kick him again softly, "Hey, I was just-"

"It kills me, Ger," Jake spoke up quietly.

Gerry sighed, shaking his head, "I know it does. You couldn't a' known. Fuck, _I_ couldn't a' known at the time. Just gotta roll with the punches, y'know? Do what you gotta do."

Unshaken by their history, Jake simply took in the dreary atmosphere with another sip of his beer, setting the bottle beside him as the backdoor of his house opened, leaving Gerry to peer over his shoulder to find Donna standing there, arms crossed. He raised his bottle to his forehead in some odd form of salute, leaving Donna to merely speak up lowly.

"Gerry."

The man grinned as he turned to Jake, "Hey, I didn't get a single word last time."

Sighing, Jake tilted his head to the side, "What's up, babe?"

"Well, it's three in the morning now, and judging from those bottle beside you, it's also three drinks, not one," she mentioned, hoping her husband would end the meeting before she was forced to.

Jake failed to move beyond dipping his head forward, leaving Gerry to curl his lips unsurely, turning toward Donna with a softened tone, "Sorry, we were on a kinda bad topic."

"Oh?" Donna wondered sarcastically, "What about?"

Gerry smirked, "Talkin' about how Jake signed my death wish when he was seven."

"Gerry!" Jake shouted defiantly, leaving Gerry to roll around his chair as he laughed, though Jake turned to his wife, "Babe, that's not-"

Donna averted her head, "I don't care, Jake; I just want you in bed for work tomorrow. Hanna goes back to school on Monday, and I don't want us gettin' behind on the last stretch."

"Hey, she's goin' back to school?" Gerry asked aloud, "Good on her. She gettin' better, then?"

Knowing Donna wouldn't answer, Jake replied begrudgingly, "She… No. The chemo's ending, but there's been little, if any, progress."

"Fuck, man," Gerry shook his head, watching as Jake went through his phone for a picture, "I hate it for all 'a you."

Jake reached over to hand his phone off to his brother, revealing a slithering scar atop Hanna's head, her room having been too dark from him to notice earlier, "She doesn't want to go back like that, so we're gettin' her a wig to put on."

"Goddamn, man…" Gerry muttered quietly, frowning at the picture before turning toward Donna, "I'm so sorry."

She shrugged, "We're gettin' by. Just one day at a time, ya know. Thanks, though. We kinda need all tha' support we can get."

Gerry nodded, "Well, I can't offer much 'a anything, but I'm always there if ya need me. 've been doin' it for this bozo since we were kids, so I can't quit now, eh?"

He tried to kick Jake again, though his younger brother had prepared, recoiling readily as he grinned, "Yeah, until he realized I'd learned from him, and more importantly, I learned how to be _better_ than him."

"Pfft," Gerry scoffed, "You _wish_ you knew how to best me. Who was there for who when Ms. Clairborne was goin' desk to desk lookin' for Herby?"

Before Jake could fire back, Donna had sat on the stairs leading to the back door, groaning quietly to herself before asking, "Okay, you've sucked me in. Who's Herby..?"

Jake laughed in a high tone, almost like a giggle, "He was a gerbil I took to school one day, 'cause I'm a doofus. The damn thing squeaked and Mc Clairborne heard it- went row to row checkin' all our desks."

"She passed mine already, but Jakey was two rows over," Gerry finished, fondly, "I fuckin' pulled some Mission Impossible shit and jumped through the legs of Victor's desk, got Herby from Jake and dove through 'em again before Clairborne had a clue."

He went on with chuckles strewn about his story, "Jakey didn't stop thankin' me for a week."

Jake grinned widely, turning to his wife, "Okay, you know we aren't _really_ brothers, right? I mean, we were as close as brothers; we both were in an orphanage at a young age. We kinda had to be there for one another; lord knows the overseers weren't gonna look out for any of the kids there."

Gerry scoffed once again, smirking, "I mean, it was usually _me_ lookin' out for this guy."

"Hey, I helped you out plenty, "Jake reminded, "Remember the panty raid? You wouldn't 'a had a clue had I not-"

His eyes met his wife's, whose were staring toward him unfavorably, leaving Jake to cover his mouth to clear his throat before completing, "I mean, Ger already knows the rest."

Gerry chuckled at the couple's interplay, shaking his head before taking a deep breath to calm himself, resting his head against the back of his chair before turning it to the side, eying Donna, "Orphanage was also why I got Hep B."

"Ger," Jake muttered quietly, trying to get him to stop, though Gerry didn't heed him.

"No, no; I figure she needs to know," Gerry shrugged, returning his attention to Donna, "I know you think I'm some thug with a contagious sickness, but- I'm just a guy who fell in love 'n got sick because of it. Got sick and couldn't get a job because of it, couldn't find anybody willin' to help me out because of it."

Gerry smiled as he turned his eyes toward Jake, "Well, nobody but this doofus."

Jake rolled his eyes at such a reverent tale being woven toward such a silly insult.

"The orphanage was doin' all their vaccines, but they either miscounted, or it was cheaper to shortchange the kids," Gerry shrugged, "When it came time for the Hep. B ones, Jake and I were last 'n Jake tried to get me to get it so I wouldn't get sick, but- I'm the older brother, y'know. Gotta make sure I protect my kid brother."

Gerry's eyes fell, "Couldn't've known one of us would'a been far more at risk for it than the other."

A silent air fell over the three of them, leaving Gerry to bring the atmosphere back up with a gentle smile, "But that's the past. Can't change it; you just gotta live with it. Keep goin'."

He turned to Jake, "And _you_ gotta live with your family. and I've gotten you in far more trouble than I needed to."

"No, no," Donna sighed, "You're fine. Jake said the last thing you wanted was to disturb us, so-"

Gerry nodded with a grin, "I truly don't, no. 'n like I said, I've kept you two up far longer than I meant to."

The two men stood up and joined fists, Gerry pulling his younger brother into his shoulder before stepping away, shoving his hands into his pockets, "Jake."

"Ger," he replied.

Gerry turned to nod at Donna, who replied with much the same before rising to her feet and returning to the house, leaving Jake to watch his brother with cautious eyes. Gerry met him with a glance of his own, his more unsure, wondering what his brother was thinking. Finally, as Jake stepped toward his back door, he slowed up passing his brother, lowering his head mournfully.

"What we talked about before," he muttered, "If you're doin' it, check the crawlspace on your way out."

Gerry nodded, despite his brother not looking at him, and watched Jake work his way up the steps into his home, shutting the door and locking up, leaving Gerry alone in the backyard to watch the soil at his feet, pondering his brother's words. He walked to his brother's chair and picked up the empty bottles before retrieving his own, depositing them all into the trash can as he made his way to the side of the house, looking over his shoulder as he stopped at the broken lattice that sat around the foundation of the house.

He knelt down and reached beneath the house, tugging at a backpack and pulling it to his knees, Gerry's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he watched the dark fabric of the pack. He slowly took the zipper and began silently working it along its track, his lips curling inward as he bit his tongue, feeling his skin crawl at the sight of what lied within.

An assortment of radioactive material, stolen from some undisclosed location. What Jake had promised to get him.

Gerry looked around as he closed up the backpack, strapping it over his shoulder before making his way out onto the sidewalk and hurriedly walking down the street, back toward the main drag of the city, where he could lose himself alongside the bevy of homeless that lined the streets there. He pulled his coat up after another glance over his shoulder, before turning the corner, losing sight of his brother's home.


	8. Priorities

"Alright, Gwen," Em Jay declared as she dropped into the seat across from Gwen, sliding the tray of food in between the two of them, avoiding her friend's wayward glance that meant she'd been thinking about something else, "I'm the band leader, and I accept that as a responsibility. It doesn't behoove a leader to just remain idle and- yes, I know I already don't do that, but nevertheless. Look, you've been looking green around the gills for months now, and despite you saying it's 'all okay' or whatever, it can't be good for you, 'specially when you're banging on drums for hours. _That's_ a problem."

Gwen's shoulders were slumped as she watched Em Jay pull her burger and fries closer, leaving the tray to her drummer to use for her own portion. Even after a decent night's sleep, she still felt empty inside, as though every ounce of her energy had been expended and she was merely riding off some esoteric siphon of lifeforce that derived from her powers. As hungry as she was, she barely felt able to undo the paper around her meal, simply staring at it with sunken eyes.

"Now, I don't want you thinking I'm some bitch tryin' to make sure you're up to snuff just because you're the only lady-drummer worth her salt this side of 41st Street," Em Jay clarified, "You're my friend, first. That's why I'm here talking to you instead of going out and sneaking in auditions or whatever- we're like Def Leppard, y'know?"

Lips turning distastefully, Gwen muttered a reply, "I sure hope my arm isn't in any danger…"

Em Jay grinned childishly as she took a bite before returning her burger to the table, turning to her tiny backpack that served as her purse, "No, not that I know of. It's your mind that I'm more concerned about- or your body in general, I guess; stress can kill, you know."

Gwen sighed, "I'm not stressed, Em Jay."

"The hell you aren't," Em Jay shot back, rummaging further still, "But we're gonna handle that right now. That's why I called you here."

With still-tired eyes, Gwen watched as Em Jay pulled a hand-held notepad and a pen out from her purse, flipping to an empty page and resting it atop the table, clicking open the pen with a constructive voice, "We're gonna go down everything goin' on in your life and work on some time management, okay? Try to get you back on track."

Gwen's eyes widened, "I-I don't think-"

"Trust me," Em Jay assured easily, "It'll be easy. Just think of it like different story lines going on in your life- like a film, right? That's how it was explained to me, anyway; didn't you take the same orientation class I did first year of college?"

Frowning, Gwen dropped her head, leaving Em Jay to conclude on her own, "Probably those accelerated classes you were into. Okay, anyway, look here. We're gonna put 'Mary Janes' up top- not to say we're the number one priority or anything- just that's what I already know. Now, we'll put college next and… Okay."

Em Jay raised her head, eyeing Gwen with a critiquing glance, "Alright, what's next?"

Gwen bit her tongue for a moment, trapped in thought for a split second before answering the easiest one, "M-My father retired. I've, uh, been trying to get back home to visit him more."

"Ah, okay," Em Jay nodded, "Sounds noble enough. What else?"

Gwen went silent.

"Oh, come on," Em Jay muttered unappreciatively, "We've got three things here. You look like death warmed over half the time- there's gotta be more than that."

Stammering, Gwen answered further, "Th-There's the Dollar Dog. Mr. Alby's been-"

"That's been closed down, Gwen," Em Jay chided with a groan, "Geez, you've really got your head unscrewed, huh? Look…"

She dropped the pen atop the notebook and slid it toward Gwen before retrieving her burger, "I don't wanna know your personal stuff goin' on or whatever, so you just make the list yourself if you're too shy to share stuff- you can keep the notebook and the pen. I got 'em from that school raffle last month; I'm just shocked I found a use from 'em in this day and age."

She took in a few fries before sipping her drink, staring off onto the street outside, "Just put down everything- personal stuff, secret boyfriends, if you're running drugs or whatever else. Then you rewrite them all in a list by priority and work off that, alright? So, go to town. _and_ eat. You look like you're malnourished something fierce."

Gwen bit her lip as she stared at the notepad with a cryptic gaze, aimlessly reaching up to spin it around toward her, taking stock of the three items that had already been written there. She knew there were more, far more, but couldn't bring herself to write them down, especially not with Em Jay just two or three feet away, her eyes sure to be examining her every move. Still, she couldn't help but find it to be a useful exercise. Perhaps it truly would help her, at the very least, in clearing her mind. She'd heard from Peter himself that the best cure for a mind aflutter with endless thoughts was to get them out of there and formed into tangible notes.

She reached her hand over to clutch the ringed top of the notepad in an effort to hide the contents while taking the pen, which Em Jay immediately noticed, her voice appearing blandly, "I ain't looking. Just write what you have to."

Still, Gwen handled the top of the notepad, bringing the pen over, working tired over the next item on the list. Em Jay had said in no particular order, this time, so Gwen simply wrote what came to her mind, her list coming out as:

Mary Janes

College

Dad

-Dol- X

S-W

Jessica

Secrecy

M

She paused. She'd started that last word, but- She didn't know if she had the heart to finish it. She felt the hard tug of the pen as her fingers clenched around its neck, her heart trembling as the thought of writing out the rest of the word had her nearly in a vice. It wasn't anything she could admit, to anyone, much less herself. She was Spider-Woman, wasn't she? How could somebody so strong feel something so-

"Yo, you done?" Em Jay asked, bolting Gwen from her darkening thoughts.

Gwen's face tightened, "Not yet, I just-"

Bolstered by the pressure of her friend, Gwen scrawled the rest of the word out before desperately turning the page to its next empty space, leaving Em Jay with a sigh of relief at the sight. Finished with her burger by new, Em Jay was simply grasping her pack of fries, lazily waving one in front of her mouth as she spoke.

"Okay, now, like I said. Rewrite 'em out and figure out which ones have more priority over the other," she explained before recoiling, almost as if in a double-take, "And don't worry if, uh, the Mary Janes _aren't_ number one. It's not like you have to quit doing some of those things, we just need to figure out how to manage your time, y'know?"

She shrugged, biting into the fry in her hand, "I mean, it'd be _nice_ if we were' number one, but-"

Gwen's eyes fixed on the blank slip of lined paper, her gaze weakening as she thought of each and everything on her list, going through them again and again. She felt her insides begin to rumble at the thought of rewriting some of them, this exercise forcing her to come to terms with things she'd have far rather avoided far into the future, however unsustainable such a thing would very well be.

"We'll all help ya out," Em Jay noted, as though it were an afterthought, her eyes peering out through the glass in such an absentminded manner, "Betty, Gloria, 'n I got your back."

Such words warmed Gwen's heart a tad, though they meant little so far as so many of these words were concerned, she knew. Still, the thought itself focused her slightly, allowing her to bring the pen down toward the paper, her usually neat penmanship skewing into something far more disjointed as the word she was writing forced a shudder down her spine.

1 Mourning

* * *

The television blared color out along the wall behind Gwen as she sat slumped in her father's couch, hood carelessly hanging over her head, hands buried deep in her hoodie pockets as her eyes lifelessly stared toward whatever was being shown on the large screened set. Her night off was quickly turning into a day off, she knew, though she'd figured that a tired Spider-Woman wasn't worth having around anyway, deciding to visit her father while her body was weak and her mind was aswirl. So, for the past hour or so, she'd simply sat here and watched whatever her father had left the television to, not even bothering to catch up on one of her shows, though those were all from far too long ago, she knew. Spider-Woman didn't allow her to keep up with such things.

"No, no!" came her father's scruffy voice from the other room, "The evidence locker's combination is 4-5-8-3- Well why are you asking _me_?! You understand the idea of precincts, right? Look, just- Just call Ference over there and _he'll_ tell you everything about _that_ precinct, alright? Alright, thanks Barbara…"

Gwen heard a tiresome groan from the dining room before the clattering of the house phone rang out, probably from George having simply dropped it onto the table, before a silence hung over the house. Too exhausted to investigate, Gwen simply averted her eyes toward the entryway between the two rooms, wondering whether her father was hunched over in exhaustion himself, though she knew that wasn't the case. Her whole life, she knew her father never tired. It was a trait she'd wished he'd passed down to her.

Suddenly, a deep clearing of the throat emerged before George appeared in the doorway, shaking his head with exasperation before making his way toward the couch, "I swear, Gwennie, there ain't no retiring for a police captain, I tell ya. There's _always_ somebody, somewhere, needing a question answered about something."

He groaned as he fell into the couch beside his daughter, dropping his head back onto the head of the comforting furniture, grumbling, "Comes with the territory, I s'pose. I've been the one with answers for decades. Tough habit to break."

 _Decades_. Gwen nearly shuddered at the idea of doing this Spider-Woman thing for so long.

"How've you been doing, kiddo?" George asked, suddenly, failing to receive a reply as he frowned, "That bad, huh? I _thought_ it was odd when you showed up today. I figured you had some, uh, you know, _crime-fighting_ to do."

Gwen still didn't answer, leaving her father perturbed, hunting down something to lighten her mood. He suddenly began to chuckle mutely behind closed lips as he thought of their current situation, his retirement coming to mind, his rapid shaking at least earning him Gwen's attention. Her head slowly turned along the back of the couch until her eyes peered out toward her father, narrowed suspiciously until he finally calmed himself enough to explain.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Y'know how long we spent with this same dynamic, just in reverse?" George pointed out lightly, "I used to spend whole dinners testing you on what to do if some maniac were to tear down the door in the middle of the night or set the house on fire. Now _you're_ the one telling me to stay indoors 'cause some mob boss wants me dead to get to you."

He shrugged, grinning, "It used to be the other way around. I was so worried about you and mom 'cause I knew you two were the easiest way to get to _me_. Now you're out fightin' crime and I'm here just- Well, hopefully watching more informative television than whatever you kids watched back in the day."

"…you get out?" Gwen asked quietly.

George nodded, "Yeah, every now 'n then. Gotta get groceries and stuff, but, I don't know. I'm not one for being recognized by so many people and being asked the same questions again and again- most of 'em about _you know who_. I hate to still be the anti-Spider-Woman spokesman, given the circumstances."

He turned his eyes down toward his daughter, catching only a glimpse of her face beneath the hood, "It ain't too rough, is it?"

She sighed deeply, frowning, "I mean, it is, but… I don't know. There's just too much going on, and-"

"You feel yanked every which way?" George finished for her, pausing for a moment before continuing, "Yeah. I know what you mean."

Gwen's eyes peered up toward him, "You do?"

"Sweetheart, I was the _police captain_ , of a New York City precinct. Add in a family, and you've got yourself a hefty concoction of 'every which way'," George joked, "When we knew you were comin', I read up so much on raising daughters. I didn't have any sisters, 'n my home life wasn't exactly much- I was so, so worried about doing something wrong. Everybody was saying how important it is for girls to have a good relationship with their father's- I hated having to be away so often and not fostering that sort of thing. When Helen died, I- It just hurt all the more, knowing you were maintaining the house all by yourself."

He grinned, "Remember all those nights I'd come home and we'd walk up to get some ice cream? Those usually came after double shifts. I got, maybe, three hours of sleep those nights. But, y'know, when you're responsible for a little girl- nobody else is gonna do it for ya. You just gotta dig deep; and now look where it got me."

Leaning toward his daughter to lovingly bump into her shoulder, George smiled, "I'd like to think I've got a pretty outstanding daughter, now. I must'a done something right."

Gwen's eyes went dark, "So, what, your advice is just to 'dig deep'?"

Her father's smile evaporated as he sighed, reaching a hand to massage his chin, his skin crinkling among the stubble there, "Look, Gwennie. When you have _that_ kind of power, the ability to change the world for the better, that comes with a certain responsibility. Now, you didn't ask for it, you might not have even wanted it, but it's yours now. Do you realize how many people would want to fill your shoes right now?"

Gwen's heart sank, her voice echoing quietly, "I do…"

George frowned, realizing his faux pas, "Gwen, I'm sorry; I didn't-"

"No," she clarified, softly, "No, it's fine. I just-"

She grew quiet, leaving her father to fill in the blanks, George muttering quietly, "It still hurts, huh?"

"Yeah…"

Reaching an arm around her shoulders, George pulled his daughter close, tugging at her tightly, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Gwen shook her head, "I just- It's hitting me now more than ever."

Her father ran his hand along her arm to comfort her, "From the sound of it, you kind of buried yourself in Spider-Woman stuff. I mean, people grieve in different ways, but it sounds like you never gave yourself a chance. Add in all that extra stuff and no wonder you're so drained all of a sudden."

"I guess," Gwen frowned, still downtrodden that she, Spider-Woman, was feeling so weak- though maybe grieving wasn't much of anything to feel weak about, she wondered.

George shrugged, "I've had many people die because I made bad calls. Those hurt the most. Calling their families was even harder. I'd bury myself in work and barely see you or mom at all. But that's no way to live, and Peter, of all people, wouldn't want you torturing yourself over it. He'd want Spider-Woman doing her thing, not toiling like this. So take your time; do what you have to. If you don't confront it now, you never will."

Frowning, Gwen replied, "For not having super powers, you sure are a good source of info for somebody who does."

Her father grinned, "I'm a dad; we have our own super powers, should we ever need to rouse them. Seeing my daughter feeling bad just so happens to bring 'em out. Probably why I always carried around band-aids when we all went camping upstate; my tomboy daughter kept getting cuts and bruises."

"Why do I get the feeling you're fishing for an apology..?" Gwen asked under her breath, giving her a chuckle from her father.

"I'm not, really," he confirmed, "If anything, hearing about all you're dealing with these days, all that might as well have been training- I dunno. I'm just happy to be there for you."

He paused for a moment, "Look, you've enough on your plate. I'm not gonna become some crotchety old bag just because you don't make it a point to visit every other night. If you're ever busy, you don't have to come all the way out here. Just text me, let me know you're okay. That's all I need."

Gwen turned her head up toward him, "Don't you want me visiting?"

"Of course I do," he answered, smiling, "But you're dealing with enough without worrying about me. Besides, if you're truly trying to get in with S.H.I.E.L.D., I received enough reports on them when I was captain; it's not like your free time will suddenly expand. Go have fun. Go kick butt. I dunno. Just do your thing."

His daughter smiled weakly, "You sure?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I'd cramp your style, anyway. I've seen those dives your band plays in; I'd stick out like five sore thumbs."

Gwen mustered up a soft laugh, bringing her father's heart a bit of light, "Nah, you'd be just fine. You should come see us sometime. We had a former manager listen to us; said we were pretty good."

"Uh huh?" her father hummed in inquiry, "Let me know when you all break out. I'll be the first in line for your albums. I mean, I'll be the first to preorder, or however it works these days."

Gwen smiled, "Just however you get it, dad. That'll be just fine."


	9. Senses Tingling

Crouched atop the New York skyline, Gwen took in a breath before yanking her mask over her face, her hand quickly taking her hood and cowling it over her head, checking his shooters next as dictated by her usual routine, not wanting them to jam or clog in the middle of duty. Her muscles still felt weak, but just as her father's said, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents never had the night off, and if she would ever join the likes of them, despite Jessica's mentioning of the opposite, she would need to be prepared to serve this entire planet 24/7. Her body was a machine that couldn't afford to whir to a stop, lest it begin taking longer and longer her to churn itself awake again. Examining her second shooter, Gwen teetered off the mighty tall building, lazily throwing her web after a moment of weightless delight and coursing through the dark night of New York City.

Spider-Woman was back in business.

Meandering through the city, Spider-Woman kept an eye out, working her mp3 player from within her pocket, her wireless headphones popping online before one of the ragged recordings of the Mary Jane's began playing in her ears, thankful that her Spider Senses, for the most part, freed her ears to take in more exciting fair at times.

She spun through the air, freedom taking her on occasion as she whirled about, often allowing herself to fall for a few meters simply to feel the rush, the feeling still somewhat new to her. She remained uptown, away from the lights and bustle of lower Manhattan where the police might have collected in enough numbers to offer her something of a headache. Uptown was so much darker, so much in the back of everybody's mind. The perfect breeding ground for wily criminals hoping to score one or two hits to gain confidence before making a hassle downtown. It was, more or less, a training ground for villains, which was ironic, as Spider-Woman had mostly taken it as her own training ground.

"Alright, New York," she thought to herself, "What'chu got for your girl tonight? Carjacking? Robbery?"

The back of her brain began to tickle as her eyes darted around, narrowing in on a street she was just passing, groaning underneath her breath as she mumbled to herself, "…or, you know, domestic abuse."

Sure enough, there stood a man and a woman having a spat out on the sidewalk, both in their pajamas and the man robed, his arms outstretched in pleading while the woman with him was deep in her cell phone, probably to get a ride away from him. Spider-Woman groaned at such a lowly objective, though she quickly figured that trouble took on a gradient of forms, and she slowly let herself swing down to the street just as the woman had made it into a call.

"Margine?" she spoke, loud enough that the man could hear her over his own pleading, "Yeah, honey! Look, I need a ride outta here; Justin got home drunk and started yell- Yeah! Yeah, I just need a-!"

The man begged with outstretched arms, "Baby, please, I'm sorry! Just come back inside- it's too cold ta' be-!"

"Justin! I'm not going back in there with you! I told you last time, I-!"

The two froze in terror as a white-dressed form hopped atop the nearby car, its ghost-like eyes appearing from out of its hooded frame as it crouched there, head tilted in curiosity. The woman's jaw dropped in time with her arm, the only sound in her direction coming from the phone in her hand.

"Barb? Barb, you there?"

The man's eyes were bugged out of his face nearly in shock, slowly tip-toeing away to take flight before Spider-Woman spoke up, "Okay, you two, it's too late to be having this outside, disturbing the peace 'n all. Now, if you two need a mediator, I'll happily accompany you both-"

"GAH!" the woman cried out, dashing back toward the open door to their duplex, the man having already made a furious sprint himself back indoors, both desperate to escape the Spider-Woman.

Such an exit merely left Spider-Woman to drop her head in defeat, groaning to herself as she somersaulted off the car and taking to her feet, walking up the stoop toward the door and offering the courtesy of shutting the door behind the two. Shaking her head in disbelief, she pulled out one of her homemade 'business cards', scribbling on the back of it before examining it.

"Consider a change, ma'am," she repeated, frowning as she spun it around to its front face, " _Friendly_ Neighborhood Spider-Woman, huh? Not soon enough…"

She dropped it in the appropriate mailbox before exiting the doorstep, pulling out another card to critique as she walked down the sidewalk, frowning to herself, "Wow, these really _do_ look stupid. Dammit, Jessica… No more creativity on a stomach full of Dollar Dogs."

Stuffing the card back into her pocket with a dismissive sigh, Spider-Woman mumbled to herself, "At this rate, I'm gonna have to find Bandit and chase _him_ for anything productive. Wow, I'm a loser."

Having shaken her wireless earbuds from her ears to deal with the couple, Spider-Woman returned them to her ears, swiping through her mp3 player and starting her music up again, greeting herself with the lovely music of the power rock'n roll of the Mary Janes, recognizing the song as the one they'd practiced the other day in front of that manager dude. She shot a web up toward the top of a nearby building, though before she could yank herself along, a troubling thought crossed her mind as she continued staring down at the screen in her hand.

Not only had her Bluetooth settings been shut off, but she was pretty sure the Mary Janes hadn't recorded that song yet…

Her eyes shrunk curiously, staring at her player with a serious look as the quietly muttered to herself, "That's o-"

Suddenly, the music in her headphones disappeared in a split second, as though her earbuds had shut off, leaving Spider-Woman turning her head over her shoulder, getting that sort of skin-crawling feeling of being watched. Her hand still grappling her web, she quickly pulled herself up into the air, swinging away with a skeptical feeling in the pit of her stomach. The same thing had happened while catching those back robbers, she remember; her music was still playing despite having been paused. Perhaps she truly _was_ more tired than she'd though.

"Ooookay, Spider-Woman," she muttered to herself, "No thinking about being creative on nothing but Dollar Dogs while on nothing but Dollar Dogs… Seriously though, the hell?"

She pat the side of her head with an open palm mid-flight, thinking to herself, "Okay, Gwen, just take a deep breath- there you go. Let the stress go, let the stress go. Let the-!"

Her eyes opened just as her neck tingled furiously, her arm instinctively yanking herself up into the air as the headlight of a large truck drove through the path she'd absently been on, a late horn blaring through the chilly air as Spider-Woman attempted to steady herself, instead slamming her side into a brick wall before simply letting her feet hit the ground to reorient herself, gritting her teeth as she rubbed the abrasion from her arm.

"Fuck," she grimaced, "Okay, keep the stress piled on. Keep it- Hey!"

At the random shuffling of somebody nearly burying themselves within a nearby trash pile, Spider-Woman zipped herself up to the adjacent wall, eyeing the collection of trash bags sitting outside one of the handle-less kitchen doors leading out into the alleyway, her eyes narrowed to scope out the source of the disturbance, unsure if it was just a raccoon, or-

"Yeh HA!" cried the Bodega Bandit as he leapt from the assortment mess of trash, aiming a deliberate finger in Spider-Woman's direction, "You got me! but not for long, Spidey!"

He was preparing to take flight, not noticing Spider-Woman's head falling low in defeat, "Goddamn… Look, any other night, Bandit, but tonight- Couldn't you be like Electro or something? Something worth mustering up the strength for? I'm, like, on zero right now."

"Pfft, I ain't buyin' _that_!" the Bodega Bandit cried out enthusiastically, "I swiped fifteen gift cards from this place 'n you'd better catch me, Spidey! I ain't goin' easy on you this time!"

Giggling as he rushed off in a sprint, Spider-Woman grumbled lowly to herself, knowing this might be the only thing she'd accomplish tonight, though the thought still trampled upon any amount of determination that she might have been able to conjure up. Her eyes wandered upward just as the Bodega Bandit broke onto the sidewalk, Spider-Woman's eyes blaring wide open as another figure burst out down the sidewalk, knocking the Bandit into the dark corner and sending the other figure to the ground as well. She darted to the ground, webbing herself over as the Bandit began shouting out angrily.

"Yo, stiff! Yah ruined my escape plan! Jerk!"

Spider-Woman watched the Bandit incredulously, though her vision immediately wandered toward the new figure in the dark night as her senses began to tingle once again, her eyes growing in gradual realization as Nick himself, that former band manager from the other day, began pushing himself to his feet, brushing off his lengthy coat while watching the Bandit with surprise.

"S-Sorry," he spoke up warily, slightly taken by the getup, "I didn't see you- Oh, hey again."

He'd turned to Spider-Woman, her eyes like disks. Again?! What did he mean by that? She hadn't seen him before he'd wandered into their band practice! How could he've- Did- Did he know?! Had she let it slip somehow? Had her voice-

Nick's head tilted to the side curiously, "You, uh- We met the other day. You broke my lamp and-"

"OH!" Spider-Woman shouted in realization, "I, uh- I _did_ do that, didn't I? Of course! Where else would you have, uh…"

Her voice trailed off, recognizing the possible hole she was digging for herself, though Nick was helpful enough with a quick, "I mean, tabloids 'n all. You know, those ones where you supposedly freeze puppies and eat them."

"God," she murmured with exasperation, dropping her forehead into the palm of her hand, "At least they're getting further out from inside the box. I'd really hate to discourage that kind of crea- You know what, forget that mess. Sir, thank you for assisting your _Friendly_ Neighborhood Spider-Woman. I'll be sure to-"

She reached down to swipe away the gift cards from the Bodega Bandit's grasp, waving them toward Nick, "-return these flimsy little…"

Her stare wavered as she realized how pathetic her night's work appeared to be, particularly to somebody whom she'd saved from certain death at the hands of a careening train car just a week or so ago, dropping her arm in defeat as her shoulders slumped.

"Slow night, huh?" Nick asked with something of a knowing grin.

Spider-Woman replied with zeal, "Well, yeah, but most nights, I'm totally kicking crime in the ass!"

Nick chuckled, "No lamp left unwarranted, huh?"

"Now that's just unfair," Spider-Woman confirmed with crossed arms and skeptical eyes.

At that, Nick dropped his head to hide the rest of his laughter, shrugging, "'s all good. I needed a new one anyway. But hey, you'd better get back to your- Well, whatever this is."

He pointed to the Bodega Bandit, whose head was still swirling from the impact, causing him to sway aimlessly as he attempted to work his way to his feet, though Spider-Woman simply sighed, "I keep getting back to him, but even the police got tired of wasting space on a guy stealing, maybe, three bucks of stuff. I mostly just-"

Spider-Woman's eyes went blank beneath her mask as her skull began to vibrate, shaking her head to free herself from such a massive spike from her spider sense, raising a hand, "Hold that thought."

With that, she shot a web upward and flew into the sky, leaving Nick to swing around to try and follow her, though was ultimately unsuccessful, his trenchcoat bellowing in the breeze as he aimlessly returned his attention to the Bodega Bandit, the 'criminal' groaning with frustration as he tossed the gift cards to the ground, leaving Nick confused as the striped-dressed man started off.

"Hey, uh, Bandit? You dropped these," Nick noted.

The Bodega Bandit only shrugged, "Eh, there's no point no more. You know how much cardio I burn runnin' from that thing? 't's all wasted, now."

With that, the Bandit sauntered off, Nick watching with concern from behind. Eventually he swooped down, collecting the gift cards and matching their fronts to the nearest restaurant, dropping the stack of plastic into the mail slot. Turning back toward the lowly-lit street, his eyes couldn't help but touch the sky for any sign of the white-cloaked woman for just a second ago.

* * *

"J-Jess?!" Gwen shouted in surprise as she awkwardly tried to web her way along the flat rooftop that lined every home down the street, catching up to the new mother that was strolling along as though nothing was out of the ordinary, "What're you doing here in my universe?"

Jessica turned her head around with droll expression as Gwen rolled out of her darting grapples, now walking at her spider-partner's side, "Wait- Wait- Wait. Don't tell me. What, you need me for some big assignment? Oh, is 616 in peril or something? Is there a universe where they need a Spider-Person to model for a monument for the Met?!"

Severely uninterested, Jessica didn't reply, instead bringing up the box of food in her arm, scarfing down a hotdog from within, the box merely containing about ten 'slider dogs' that she'd been nursing for a while, judging from the half-empty contents. Gwen watched with a wary curiosity as Jessica shrugged in reply to her question.

"Water must be different here; these things are so much better," Jessica explained with a meandering, disinterested tone, "Did you know your cravings continue even _after_ you give birth? This shit's insane; I can't get enough of these things."

Inhaling another bite-sized hotdog, Jessica continued walking along the rooftop, seemingly ignoring Gwen's increasing frustration, "That's it? A box 'a hotdogs?"

"It's a testament to your New York," Jessica explained easily, "Take pride in it. Protect those dogs. For me."

Gwen swooped downward as her shoulders fell dramatically, " _Jess_!"

"Alright, okay. I'm sorry to burst in and get you all excited," she apologized, "I suppose I could take this opportunity, during my humble hotdog run, to offer _some_ form of instruction. If not that, perhaps some wisdom to impart upon you. That's what I'm usually here for, isn't it?"

Frowning in reply, Gwen mumbled, "I mean, you make it sound like such a hassle…"

"It's really not," Jessica confirmed, "At the very least, it's mom training for me. Goodness knows, Gerry's gonna be eight handfuls- that may be equivalent to one Gwen Stacy."

"Not helping," Gwen groaned.

Jessica took the chance to grin before taking a sip from the large soda resting in between her arm and torso, "Okay, okay. What's on your mind? Any new baddies crop up? Any progress on your public image? Did you finish doing what I instructed?"

"No, and…well, no," Gwen sighed, "Everything's just been slow tonight."

Nodding, Jessica replied, "Isn't that what usually happens before _something_ inevitably crawls out of the woodwork?"

"I mean, maybe?" Gwen answered with a hint of insincerity, "Even if something _were_ to pop outta nowhere, I- Have you ever had any issues with just being tired? Like, totally devoid of energy, like you've got a ball of nothing in your gut?"

Jessica turned her head, shooting Gwen a stare, "It's called _pregnancy_ , dear."

"No, I _know_ that, it's just- I thought my powers augmented my body, you know? I mean, up until a handful of days ago, I never felt exhausted, but now, it's like I'm strangled in a tether, with my powers being the only thing keeping me from falling into an abyss, my body just…dangling there. I've never felt so…weak."

Jessica's lips whirled in thought, her gait slowing to a stop before turning toward Gwen with curious eyes. Gwen responded in kind, albeit behind her mask, trying to figure out what exactly Jessica was looking for. The mother reached over and took the hem of Gwen's mask in her fingers, lifting it up enough to catch a glimpse of her neck, shrugging as she released it.

"Skin color's looking normal," Jessica noted, "Any eye discoloration or anything? Any illnesses?"

Gwen thought for a second, "No."

Humming in contemplation, Jessica stared at Gwen with a furtive glare, leading Gwen into a shudder of nerves, wondering what had her mentor so intense upon her, "Uh, is there something I'm-?"

"Your spider-senses," Jessica wondered quietly, her eyes narrowing into a piercing stare of inquiry, "They been giving you any issues?"

At such an unexpected question, Gwen was taken off guard, forcing her to think critically for a moment before, "I don't- No? I mean, what does that have to do with anything?"

Jessica sighed, scarfing down the last of her hotdog sliders and dropping the empty box and drink, catching it in a web to dispose of later, before crossing her arms, "Okay, obviously we never went over this. To be fair, I kind if took it for granted, but- Okay, your spider senses aren't something you control, right? It's instinctual, like a defense mechanism; you can't turn them off, right? I mean, in the movies, yeah, but this is reality."

"If you're constantly on edge, your senses will remain on edge as well. You're expecting something to happen, your reactions will heighten as well. Simple," Jessica concluded, "So, what, are you stressed out or anything? Anything weird going on in your head?"

"I mean, yeah, I'm stressed, but- Actually…" Gwen slowed, suddenly thinking of those two instances with her mp3 player playing in her head when, really, it shouldn't have.

It was rather nice to have those two moments in some sort of context that might not amount to insanity, but still, Gwen couldn't help but feel a slight shame at her mentor's perception of her should she admit this. It was one thing to need work on athletics, or agility, but her spider-senses? Something within her that she shouldn't have a problem with understanding or reining in. She must be one poor excuse of a spider-woman, she knew.

Still, amidst a sigh, she allowed the woman before her to offer any sort of aid, quietly admitting, "There _have_ been, uh, two things. The first time, I had my earbuds in, listening to music, but when I checked my player, it was muted…but I was still hearing music as if it were real. Then, as soon as I realized it, poof, it shut off."

Jessica gave her a critiquing glance as she went on, "Then, just earlier tonight, my earbuds weren't even connected to the thing and I was still listening to music as if they had been."

"I'm not crazy, am I?" Gwen asked with a sincere tremor in her voice.

Her look unchanged, Jessica watched her with an intensifying stare, though it gradually began to wear off, leaving the mom with a far more pensive look that what she had previously put on. Arms still crossed, Jessica leaned against a nearby chimney, lowering her head ever so slightly as her lips pursed in deepening thought.

"No, you're not crazy," she confirmed quietly, her voice aquiver, "Just think about it for a moment. It's not as though it's something that been heavily studied- hell, even the Peter Parker's of the multiverses don't have everything down to a science. It's some esoteric _thing_ that benefits us, and beyond that, it's a mystery."

Her face twitched, signaling her teeth biting at the tip of her tongue, "I will never forget that feeling of feeling my son in a way no other woman has probably ever felt. That moment of connection to something inside my body. One night, my spider-senses just went alight- I was so worried, nesting 'n all that- but as soon as I realized it was by child's own spider-senses, fluctuating in some developmental dance as he remained in my womb. It was-"

Her brow fell in a manner that wasn't quite sadness, though maybe something like melancholy, "I don't know what it was. It just _was_."

Gwen had brought her hands together in front of her while tilting her own head low in respect of her mentor's sudden honesty, lifting herself up only as Jessica pushed herself back upright, "But that's- That's neither here nor there. My point is, your spider-senses aren't just tendrils inside your head. Those senses act alongside the world around you; and if my unborn child was any indication, without you even being conscious of their activity."

"If they're working overtime, subconsciously, perhaps that's what's wearing you out," Jessica assumed with a shrug, "Maybe protecting you from something trying to get into your mind."

Turning to a pensive stare, Gwen attempted to conjure up a reason on those lines, but couldn't think of anything, unless it were some sort of ethereal creation hell-bent on relaying music into people's minds whenever they mistake their mp3 players for being on when they aren't. Unable to think of one, she simply admitted defeat as she shot out her next question.

"But I- Hey!"

Jessica had already taken off, strolling down the rooftop as Gwen once again was forced to catch up, unhappily chiding as she did so, "Y'know, you're not really _attentive_ , Jess."

"However do you mean?" she wondered curiously, "I have to get back home to my child. My _biological_ child, that is. I'm plenty attentive."

Gwen frowned, "That's _not_ what I mean. I'm having a serious issue here and looking for reassurance from somebody who _should_ understand."

With curled lips, Jessica answered simply, "Figure out what's got your senses in a tizzy. Simple. Maybe while _finishing the assignment_ I gave you. Talk about attentive."

"Oh yeah, like I've got the time to-"

Gwen suddenly froze, her eyes immediately darting to the side before even realizing that Jessica had done much the same, the two women turning cautiously, both of their minds quivering dangerously. Lost among the shadows cast by the chimneys on this frigid, dark night, _somebody_ was nearby.

"You felt that?" Gwen asked lowly.

Jessica nodded without reply.

Gwen's eyes coursed with intensity as she slowly began to stride toward that nearby darkness, Jessica following suspiciously as well, deferring to Gwen's knowledge of this world as the two met a shadowy figure standing there, still hidden in the shadows. Shoulders slid against the chimney in a lackadaisical pose, feet held out, astray from the rest of the angled body. A cold sweat began to form at the back of Gwen's neck, suddenly terrified of the prospect of these two meeting. All the while, Jessica's head turned ever so slightly toward Gwen, sensing her knowing dread.

At that, all that came from the shadows was a singular sound.

*tap* *tap*


	10. Enforcers

_**A/N: Every story of mine offers me a chapter where I'm forced to apologize for my shoddy action-writing xD I hope it's not too much of a chore- you can skim until the end and get the gist :thumbsup:**_

* * *

Gwen shook tensely as Matthew Murdock stepped out from the shadows, swinging his cane between a chorus of dexterous fingers, smiling with the quiet joy of a child having made some sort of discovery unknown to everybody else. His focus quickly adjusted from the masked figure he knew to the one that was foreign, leading Gwen to a quick sigh of thanks that Jessica had had the blind wherewithal to show up within the safety of her suit. Despite sharing the same powers, the same name, the two women appeared worlds different, leaving Murdock to a prolonged, appraising stare of the newcomer, much to Jessica's chagrin.

Instead of addressing the stranger directly, she turned her head to Gwen, keeping her eyes fixed on the shadow, "Who's the bowl-cut freak?"

Murdock grinned humorously enough as he stamped his cane into the rooftop before him, resting his two hands stop the bulbous jewel atop the ornate object, "So similar, you two, yet you wear different outfits and this one is far less…reserved, it seems."

"Hey, buddy," Jessica challenged lowly, "I've lived enough lives that you couldn't map your way through. Don't you dare try to figure me out during a first meeting, 'cause you'll fail miserably."

Murdock cocked his head teasingly, "You can cut the bravado. I'm not a villain; tell her, Ms. Stacy."

Jessica turned questioningly toward Gwen at the man's insistence that she answer for him, though Gwen merely wiggled her hand in the air, teetering it back and forth without commitment, "I'm, like, 74% certain he's really a villain."

Murdock's head twisted appraisingly, as if tasting her comment as it slid along his mind, shrugging, "A modest number, perhaps; though I question the villainy of any man who is willing to do what it takes to simply get things done, so long as they're not bound by the constant crossing of legal boundaries."

"He's basically Kingpin," Gwen explained, not wanting to translate Murdock's convoluted stance, "He dodges subpoenas and litigation like a virus might dodge the immune system by infecting carrier cells to do its dirty work."

He shrugged again, his teeth showing in the shadows as his lips curled divisively, "I do pretty good at it, too."

Jessica surmised suspiciously, "I _thought_ you looked the part. You must be a Murdock."

The man raised his arms in presentation before bowing, "But of course. Pleasure, I'm sure. And you are-?"

Jessica turned her head sarcastically, crossing her arms, "Spider-Woman."

Gwen covered her face in disgust as a result of her mentor's horrible joke, though it had only made Murdock began to chuckle, which caught Gwen's attention in all the wrong ways, "Ah, but of course. Birds of a feather, right? Explains that conversation about spider-senses a moment ago.

With a dismissive stare, Jessica frowned at Gwen, "I'd like to take the chance to remind you that I came here for _hotdogs_ , not this doofus."

Murdock chuckled again, "Trust me, I'm-"

" _I_ wouldn't trust him," Gwen poignantly noted, though Jessica's sarcastic glare meant she probably needn't have muttered the obvious.

Continuing, Murdock simply picked up, "I'm no doofus. In fact, I'm quite the opposite, no matter how much the lady in yellow and red would like to contend that assertion. Ms. Stacy, please enlighten your cohort with a quick narrative regarding that one run-in of ours where-"

"Hey, how about speaking for your own self?" Jessica challenged easily, "I know what you're doing."

Murdock smirked, "Do you?"

"Yes. Because _I_ did the same thing, once upon a time. And I did it a whole lot better than you ever will, mop-head," Jessica replied with a near-seething voice.

Gwen eyed her suspiciously, speaking in a whisper, "Wait, what exactly is he-"

"I see great potential in Ms. Stacy," Murdock shrugged, "And I can see the brewing tension going on beneath the surface. I can see she's your pupil of sorts, Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman of Earth-616; why are you so content with hindering her progress?"

Jessica's brow narrowed angrily, "Shut it, creep."

Murdock lowered his head to hide his lengthening, curling grin, "She could still do good with me. With the hands I have at the Daily Bugle, online advertising; we'd have her on the cutting edge of persona resurrection. It'd be nice having a public face for once, don't you think, Ms.-"

"Web him," Jessica instructed, turning toward Gwen, who replied with a confused look, leaving Jessica to yank her arms back and forth, "I'd do it myself, but I don't have my shooters."

Gwen did as she was told, quickly throwing up her arm and tossing a web, however, with the lack of surprise, Murdock easily threw his cane up to catch the web, his grip remaining powerful while Gwen tried yanking it from his grasp, leaving her with a surprised look on her face. Jessica turned to Gwen as she tugged, wondering aloud.

"How much does he know?"

Murdock replied instead, "I know _everything_."

Jessica's stare turned fierce.

"By the way, how's the child?"

In a burst of fury, Jessica dove toward Murdock, though she was nearly immediately caught by a tugging force around her waist, yanking her off course and onto the frigid concrete rooftop, quickly turning to her side to find a lasso around her torso, hurriedly scouting out for the source of the rope as she jumped to her feet, only being pulled back to the ground with seething teeth.

"I told you I was no doofus," Murdock near-giddily gloated.

Jessica scowled, sharply throwing her legs around and catching the line of rope with her ankle and throwing her body up into the air, forcing the dark figure out from the shadows and falling himself to the rooftop, desperately clinging to the rope in an attempt to hold the Spider-Woman down. He grumpily slammed a fist into the ground, pointing across the rooftop in instruction.

"Ox! Go!"

Before Jessica could hit the ground and alter her momentum, a burly man dashed toward her, hoping to slam his body into her and extinguish her every breath, though a web quickly appeared just in front of his stride, catching his footing and sending him sailing to the ground with a THUD.

Unimpressed, Murdock turned to Gwen with a frown, "I expected more from you, honestly."

Gwen tilted her head with a shrug, "I literally _just_ said you were pretty evil, dude."

Jessica hit the ground, her brain firing in a second as she crouched down, avoiding the swift kick of the third man to emerge from the shadows, his breath hanging still over his head in the cold air as he seethed through an open mouth, his ragged teeth showing off his tenacity. The three men coming into the inadequate lamplight, Murdock took the chance to take his leave, stepping back into the shadows.

"My Enforcers will happily escort the both of you to my place of residence," he muttered knowingly, "See that you don't give them _too_ much trouble, alright?"

Gwen and Jessica shared a neutral stare toward one another, leaving Gwen to surmise with a sincerely innocent air, "Well, uh… Some training before you head home..?"

Jessica rolled her eyes, ducking out of the way as another of Montana's lassos blew through the air, though it was quickly caught by a web while Jessica blew past Gwen, jumping toward the dashing Ox and slamming a foot into his chest to push herself airborne before spinning in place, knocking a foot into his jaw. Before Fancy Dan could retaliate, Gwen had Montana mid-swing, throwing the man into Dan's body, the two joining Ox, crumpled up on the rooftop.

The two Spider-Woman stood over the heap of bodies, though it wasn't enough to keep the head of Fancy Dan from staring at them with a defiant glance, earning him the confused eyes of the both of them.

"Plan H, perhaps," he babbled with a crooked smile.

Before Gwen's brain could tingle, she caught from the corner of her eye a near limitless silverine gasp of light in the darkness, firing right at her in a blinding spee-

"LOOK OU-!"

Gwen's body went flying off the rooftop, her head spinning as she careened through the atmosphere, smashing into the pavement road, her limbs flapping wildly as her body spiraled along, finally tumbling to a stop in the middle of an empty intersection, the four bulbs from above whirling around her vision as she stared up into nothingness, barely able to retrieve her surroundings, and for a moment, her own name.

She brought a hand up to clutch her head in an attempt to soothe the pounding, sweltering crack that seemed to be at her forehead now, though in her disorientation, it fell and pressed against the concrete beside her head before she could slide it upward toward her head. Before she could recover, she heard the sound of pattering footsteps, rapidly approaching before Jessica slid onto her knees and coming to a stop at Gwen's side, reaching up to examine her head.

"Fucker had some metal boxing gloves," she muttered in explanation, "Packed a hell of a wallop, too."

Gwen speech slurred only slightly, "I thought ya…weren't cursing…'ny more…"

Jessica frowned, "Well, at least you remember _something_."

She waved her hand in front of her masked face, "See that? How many fingers?"

Gwen couldn't muster a response, leaving Jessica to throw her head over her shoulder as the four men strolled into the intersection, stopping progressively until they surrounded the two Spiders, each of them stretching various joints in preparation. Fancy Dan, the martial arts expert. Ox, a man with more brawl than the animal he was named for. Montana, the life-long lassoman. Hammer Harrison, boxing legend turned thug.

Jessica eyes Harrison, his tongue sticking out brainlessly as he patted his two steel-laced boxing gloves, warming them up for the impeding battle. She quickly slid one of Gwen's web shooters from her wrist, praying it fit, only to be disappointed as it failed to slip onto her own limb, leaving Jessica with a lowly groan.

"Okay, Jess," she spoke quietly, pepping herself up, "You've got a surrogate daughter to protect, and a baby boy to get back home to. You're _not_ gonna- You've got this. You've got-"

She shot a web a few feet behind her, throwing herself backward to avoid a sweeping kick aimed for her head, acrobatically tossing herself around and throwing an elbow into the face of another oncoming villain. She skillfully entered the furiously flurry of fists and kicks, dodging left and right, throwing web to counter the lassos threatening her limbs, webbing their legs out from under her foes when able, eventually exiting the fray with a dexterous patting of her feet.

Montana had been dispatched, knocked out by a wayward punch from his own boxing ally, and webbed to the concrete, leaving the other three panting for breaths as they watched Spider-Woman standing straight as though unfazed. Dan and Harrison, however, both began to chuckle at the sight, noticing the shaky foundation that was Spider-Woman's legs.

Suddenly, Jessica fell to one knee, a massive breath bursting from her as she immediately began to gasp for breaths, reaching for her shoulder, a recipient of one of Fancy Dan's bone-crushing kicks. She dropped her head as she opened her fist, the broken crumbles of Gwen's web shooter scattering onto the concrete.

"Heh heh," Ox grumbled happily, running a wrist across his mouth to collect the trail of blood there, "You got big problem, Spider!"

Dan nodded, correcting his cohort, "Indeed. You _do have_ a big problem."

Jessica eyes them from her lowered head, working her way back up to her feet as she shook her head, "Oh no, no, no. I see you've lost _one_ of your thugs. _I'm_ still standing. and spoiler alert, I'm not going to lay down, at all."

She pointed to Gwen's still-trembling body, "That spoiler alert thing was for her."

Harrison rolled his head along his shoulders with an exasperated sigh, shaking his head, "Pfft, if I hadn't a flippin' reason to beat 'er up then, I sure got one now!"

"Wit wasted on the dumb," Jessica grumbled to herself, "You know, you should appreciate that I'm even bothering. I normally just-"

She leapt into the air as Ox charged her, using him as a launch pad to take off toward the other two, swinging a leg that narrowly missed Harrison, but managed to land into Fancy Dan's chest as he attempted to dodge, sending him barreling to the ground while Spider-Woman recovered, staying crouched in a battle stance.

She blew the stray hair from her face, "I normally just do that. No jokes."

Maybe the Earth-65 air was different as well, she thought, having taken in so much of it a moment before. She couldn't decipher it before dodging a swift throw of Harrison's gloved arm, just barely missing his wistful jab, tossing and turning herself as the man grew into a fury, swinging left and right, leaving Jessica with little choice but to continue backing away with no shooters. She kept her eyes spinning, trying to follow each punch, though her pair of eyes flew open in astonishment as she abruptly threw her back into a wall, unable to advance further.

She quickly threw her arms in front of her face, desperately trying to figure out her next course of action, her mind going blank as a terrifying blast of air advanced toward her, accompanied by the metal fist of Harrison, aiming directly at her head, hooking around her arms. She tried to dodge away, but it was too fast, her lips curling distastefully as the prospect of accepting just a bone-churning punch sent her spider-senses wi-

SCHURP!

A web shot into Jessica's vision, latching onto the man's glove and suddenly arcing it inward as Gwen tugged, sending the unstoppable fist in a launching circle, smashing into Harrison's own face, the man's momentum going wild for a brief moment before collapsing to the ground.

Jessica readied herself before examining Gwen, who'd made her way up to her knees, though was still taking in deep breaths, asking mutely while holding up two fingers, "How many?"

"One," Gwen panted, throwing her eyes toward the unconscious Harrison, "One giant metal-plated finger. or glove."

Her mentor shrugged, striding toward her, "Fair enough. Can you get up? Ox 'n the Karate Man will be back up in no time; can you-"

"I got this," Gwen assured, rising weakly to her feet, "I'll count that as two for you. I can handle _these_ two bozos; you head on back home."

Jessica rolled her eyes, "You seriously think I'm gonna-"

"Be attentive," Gwen reminded with a grin.

Jessica scowled, "Oh please, spare me the irony, child. You haven't the faintest-"

As she spoke, Gwen had aimed her single shooter toward Jessica's wrist, firing a skillful shot from the hip to hit the portal device on her mentor's arm, leaving Jessica with a fuming expression full of anger before she gradually began to evaporate into the nether, leaving nothing but bits of blue material strewn into the atmosphere. Gwen rubbed the dirt from her glove on the black portion of her suit as she examined the battlefield, her eyes turned serious as she watched Fancy Dan and Ox both rise to their feet.

A twirling cane showed up atop one of the nearby rooftops, Matthew Murdock viewing the battle with renewed interest, now that there was only fighter for his Enforcers to focus upon. His eyes went crooked with intrigue, reaching his watch up to his mouth, communicating to both men below with an authoritatively low voice.

"Now," he mumbled quietly, "Attack her simultaneously. That's at the exact same time, Ox."

He dropped his arm, stopping his cane and readying it near his feet, balancing himself as he stood aimlessly above the rooftop, quietly going over his thoughts aloud, mulling over his words, "Experiment one. Spider-senses. Just how effective are they? Do they only work on one threat? or many?"

He crossed his arms, his cane dangling at his side while his head hung low, "Just how much effort do I want to put into this thing, I wonder."

Gwen's shoulder had sunk, leaving an arm hanging down in front of her as she turned her head either way, tracking the two men approaching her from either side. She collected some blood in her mouth, reaching up to lift her mask just enough to spit out her mouth's contents, showing a frown before throwing her mask back down, readying herself.

Ox threw a punch. She dodged.

Dan threw a punch. She dodged.

She spun around. At that moment, everything went into slow-motion as her spider-senses told her to act, forced her to act; she threw an arm out, blocking Dan's fierce chopping arm. Her eyes then trailed away, mere moments passing in minutes as her eyes widened, noticing Ox's fearsome fist approaching, her spider-senses having only alerted her to a general threat, not to the number of threats. Her eyes blared wide open as-

Gwen's body was thrown across the pavement, spinning to a stop as she slid along the street, her nails digging into the ground in a futile attempt at stopping. She lay there for only a brief moment as the two villains shared a fist-bump in their success, offering one another varying tones of chuckles as they walked on in for the kill.

* * *

Murdock frowned. So it wasn't as useful as he thought it might have been. Pity.

* * *

Slowly, Gwen weakly pushed herself up, just able to catch herself with her knee to keep from collapsing to the ground once again. Her teeth tightened mightily as she bore down upon them angrily, unable to accept defeat. She had people to protect. She had memories to protect. If she wasn't alive to remember Peter, then who would-

Her hand curled into a fist, pushing herself up to her feet, though she wavered there for a moment, reaching up to run a finger along the torn bit of fabric that ran along the side of her head. Her arms readied, her one shooter primed to fire. The two men jumped at her simultaneously, Gwen throwing one hand up to block one, aiming her shooter at the other, firing at Ox's chest, trying to slow his momentum as she turned to Dan, working to counter a vicious kick, grabbing his leg and hurdling atop it, turning to-

Ox grappled her arm with his hand, yanking her backward, nearly dislocating her shoulder, before tossing her to the pavement, sending her sliding across the street on all fours, raising a leg to stop herself as she gave the two men a fierce glare. Ox nearly hacked up a lung as he chortled, accepting direction from Dan as the leader of the two told him where to put himself, allowing them to continue pelting Spider-Woman from opposite sides. Gwen grit her teeth once more, slamming a fist into the ground, trying to well up some unknown will within her, bracing herself as both men rushed her once again.

Her spider-senses flared up, tickling the edges of her brain as she instinctively took hold of Dan's kick, quickly orienting herself to Ox's punch with a much slower personal speed, though, in that very moment, a crackling appearing along the opposite edge of her mind, throwing her arm up in a simultaneously instinctual motion as she grappled Ox's hand, throwing herself into a somersault, narrowed eyes directing her two hands to bring the two men's attacks together, a kick and a punch.

Bones crackled in the darkness as Ox cried out in severe pain, grasping his broken hand and pulling it into his chest, crying out, "OW! OOW! Y-YOU HIT ME!"

"The _fuck_ I did!" Dan complained, stamping his numb foot into the asphalt below.

Gwen hopped in place as she spun around to meet the two men, sending a furious string of web at both men, incapacitating them against a nearby wall, leaving her to reach up to massage her head, a barrage of conflicting pulses leaving her with a headache. She backed up against the adjacent wall, not worrying further about her dirt-addled suit, sliding down to sit as she nursed her migraine, reaching for her phone for a text.

"Anonymous tip. Fifth and Washington."

It didn't take much time for her father to reply.

"I'll look into it. Love you, s-h. Be safe."

She slid her phone back into her pocket, shaking her head in dismay, knowing she'd just put herself on a timer to recover and leave. She sighed to herself as she incessant grumblings of the two remaining Enforcers kept her company, though she suddenly realized that she hadn't much time to catch up on what the hell had touched her mind in such a way to act as a sort of 'second' spider-sense within her brain.

Immediately looking around, she worked her way back to her feet, hobbling away, examining her surroundings before curiously aiming for a nearby alleyway, wondering what must have taken her mind for such a ride. Perhaps it was the same thing her senses were subconsciously…protecting her from? Still, in this instance, it seemed to save her skin, leaving her with little less than an intense curiosity as she worked her way into the shadows.

* * *

Murdock had turned to leave, surmising Spider-Woman's calling the police. Still, oddly enough, he couldn't manage to release the smirk that had appeared on his face at what he'd just seen.

"It seems to evolve…" he muttered quietly to himself, "Definitely worth looking into."

* * *

Gwen practically dragged herself on her two legs through the alleyway, keeping close watch on every nook and cranny, knowing she was in absolutely no condition for another fight. She remained cautious as she wandered slowly, her eyes jumping from one wall to another, realizing gradually enough that the alleyway lead only to a dead end. Coming to a stop, she kept close watch on the darker portions of the tiny inlet of brick and mortar, feeling her energy waning more and more, knowing she needed to conserve enough to get home and recover.

She slowly backstepped away, her eyes wandering toward her wrist as she began tinkering with her web slinger, hoping it hadn't gotten damaged enough to not get her home, her body spinning to allow her to step normally out from the alley when a sudden _CRASH_ broke the air behind her, forcing her to whip her head around. In that instant, however, she went light headed, her body slowly teetering into the wall where she just caught herself, unable to remain balanced as she slid down, just barely aiming herself to sit down there. Her fuzzy eyes peered upward, catching the shape of a man approaching her in a panicked motion, leaving Spider-Woman to speak weakly with just as much confusion as relief.

"N-Nick?"


	11. Recuperation

Even within a disorienting haze, as Gwen's eyes began to roll open, she was well aware that she had passed out and that a considerable amount of time had passed since then. She recalled how strung along a wire she had felt like, how her every motion felt like her taking a saw across her joints, though she could already tell that the rest had remedied much of that painful arrest. She slowly recalled what she could as her eyes slit open, peering up into the crossing rafters above her across the backdrop of grey ceiling. Those thugs had her in a corner, when to her astonishment… _something_ had happened to assist her at such a wearisome moment. _Something_. but what?

It was like a tingle at the back of her brain, so much like her reverberating spider-senses, but at the same time, it was so foreign… Her attempt to decipher it further only left her with a severe headache, leaving her to reach a hand up to her face to soothe herself, a pang of worry crossing her as she felt the material of her gloves along the bare skin of her face. Her eyes focused on the ceiling above her, but- hadn't she collapsed outside? Who had-

She quickly spun to her side, her head pounding painfully as she threw her legs out in defense, finding them trapped beneath her, a desperate struggle ensuing before a voice arose from behind her, a panicked one at that.

"Oh, shi- Sorry!" came a familiar voice, causing Gwen to twirl back around to find Nick rushing toward her, pointing toward her legs to explain, "It's just a blanket, okay?"

Gwen's eyes widened as she stared at him, his dark, messy hair betraying his inattentiveness, suddenly recalling her unmasked state, a gasp escaping her as she threw a hand in front of her face, "You-! D-Don't look at me!"

With an innocent posture, Nick threw his open hands put in front of him, speaking softly, "It's okay. I already knew."

"You-?! You _what?!"_ Gwen demanded, the visceral headache within her brain causing a faint spell to cross over her as her hand slid up toward her scalp, her head falling weakly.

"Hey, hey, hey," Nick repeated as he approached her, kneeling beside her, "Just calm down. You're in no condition to be moving so quickly. Your heart seems to be healthy, but your head is all over the place, almost like a concussion or something. I have some pain relievers, acetaminophen specifically, with me if that might help, but all things considered, I don't know if they'd even work on a, uh-"

His speech suddenly whirled in confusion, Nick clearing his throat before advancing, "Y'know, a superhero."

"Is that a dirty word, now?" Gwen asked, slowly lowering herself to the thick quilt that had been made into a makeshift bed beneath her body.

Nick frowned, "No, but, given the circumstances, I didn't want to be too presumptuous, I guess. I'm _not_ supposed to know you. I mean, I _do_ \- you're Spider-Woman, but, in a sense, I'm _not_ supposed to know… You know."

Massaging her forehead, Gwen complained, "My head is already in bits; you don't need to be talking in circles right now."

"Sorry," he apologized, sighing as his mind wandered, sitting down beside her, "You passed out pretty close to the community center I found your band practicing, so- I figured you might not want to be recognized, and bringing a bruised up, unconscious girl anywhere with me probably wouldn't lead to anything good, anyway."

He turned his head down to examine himself, smiling, "I've got a big frame- I don't exactly come across as not intimidating, so. It was pretty neat, though; I guess this place was used as a shelter at one point- there's closets full of supplies; blankets, tarps, survival gear, pain relievers. That's how I came across the acetaminophen- I had to make sure that's what it was; ibuprofen and concussions don't mix, you know, it might increase your bleeding."

Gwen eyed him suspiciously, "You look that up on your phone..?"

Nick chuckled, his hair covering his face as he lowered his head, averting himself to hide his embarrassment, "No, I- I just know a lot about stuff like that."

Curious eyes left upon the man a few feet away from her, Gwen rolled onto her back for the use of both of her arms, rubbing both her hands along her face, "Well, then you should know this kinda thing happens quite a bit to me. I'll be fine after a while; I just don't need to over exert myself."

"Huh," Nick nodded, "I could tell something was going on in there. Concussed brains aren't all similar, but they generally remain damaged for a long enough time- you're seemed to be changing, uh, _healing_ pretty quickly."

Gwen nodded, "Yeah, that's the spider- Hey, what all exactly are you doing to figure all that out?"

Nick suddenly clamped up, turning his head away as his lips pulled inward, "I, uh-"

"Dude, you know enough about _me_ ," Gwen noted, "Without me even being the one to reveal it, at that. You kind of owe me some explanations."

Taking on a nervous air, Nick ran a hand through his hair as he contemplated his options, his heart beating faster at the idea of such a thing as explanations. Such things came so readily for him, yet never for the things he ever truly needed explaining. Why he was the way he was, for instance, was a question he couldn't ever figure. Still, as strange as he was, he figured it couldn't be any stranger than the spider woman nearby, and even if it truly was, perhaps she'd understand better than most.

He cleared his throat, speaking quickly to simply blurt out the information before any sense of regret might set in, "I can, uh, hear it. Your brain, that is."

Gwen's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You _what_?"

Nick jumped to his feet, crossing his arms, dropping his head as he began to wander aimlessly in a circle, "I-It's weird, I know- I mean, my entire life, I know I've been weird, but- I'm not really- I just-"

"Okay, now _you_ calm down," Gwen instructed with a sigh, "Who're you speaking to again? Look, I've been there; just- Calm down. I get it."

Nick watched her from over his shoulder, nodding approvingly as he mulled over her words, "You're right, I just- Okay, look, something in my brain, I hear things. Everything. Like, I'm just standing here and I can hear your brain churning- It's like it's repairing itself."

With a curious stare, Gwen muttered in reply, "…what all _do_ you hear?"

He shrugged, "Heartbeats. I can hear hair follicles sprouting. I can even hear brain pulsations and electric workings- like, I can _hear_ thoughts in a sense. That's, uh, how I realized you were who you were."

Turning toward the spot marked with orange duct tape that Em Jay had laid out to everybody knew where Gwen's drum set would be set up, Nick explained lowly, "You were sitting over there, just- You just kept thinking about it; it was impossible _not_ to catch."

Gwen shut her eyes, rubbing her face in anguish at how obvious she'd made it appear. or was it?

"So, what, you just go around, listening-"

"No!" Nick replied in a desperate cry, quickly composing himself, "I can't exactly turn it off, I- That's why I'm always wearing headphones. They don't always drown everything out, but some models do a decent job of it. I'll be listening to something and there'll be somebody yelling somewhere in my apartment complex. It'll be a couple arguing somewhere else in the building, or a kid crying over not getting dessert, or-"

He stopped himself, saving himself from his trembling face, "I don't… I don't have favorite songs anymore."

Gwen watched him with a soft curiosity, almost concern, as Nick stood there with a pensive look, grasping his chin with a shaking hand, "I was listening to one of my favorites, just trying to drown out the incessant noise. All of a sudden, I heard- There was slicing skin, echoing in my mind. The dripping of blood, all night. I went to bed, 'n all I heard was that drip, drip, drip."

He shut his eyes, running his thumb and forefinger across his eyes, feigning exasperation to hide his wiping away tears, bringing the two digits to his nose, "Some guy killed himself. I heard that dripping for days 'cause nobody knew him or cared to check on him. Haven't listened to that song ever since."

Nick cleared his throat, shaking his head while crossing his arms once again, "-but, like I said, I can't control it or anything. I just catch soundbites for the most part; it's the more painful or angry ones I catch more for whatever reason- that's why your desperation to not be recognized to easily picked up with me."

Shrugging, Gwen frowned, attempting to make light of the situation somehow, "Well that explains why you were such a good manager if you were telling the truth."

"I suppose," Nick grinned, "Makes it easy to negotiate, I guess. Look, there was a trunk of throwaway clothes over there. Do you want to get out of that suit and go get some breakfast or something? Like, will that hurt your head to get out and about?"

Gwen shook her head, "No, I've done more with a broken brain before."

She slowly worked her way up toward her feet on her own, still feeling a sharp dizziness as she did so, though she ultimately made it a few steps toward the nearby closet, proving enough for Nick to nod and turn away, figuring she wasn't in any further danger of collapsing.

"So, what, do you just hate living in New York City then?" Gwen asked, "What with it being a hotbed of civilization, I mean."

Nick chuckled, "I used to. It was so difficult to organize my thoughts growing up; I did terribly in school, and I would get so frustrated to the point of just shoving pillows into both sides of my head to try and drown them all out. I don't exactly have friends either; that kind of thing doesn't exactly last when you catch every single thought from others. Might be ironic that I'd find moments to be lonely when every waking moment has another's thoughts and voices, but I eventually realized that it's sort of a poetic microcosm of everybody in this city. I may hear more than others, but I'm kind of like anybody else, really."

Gwen shrugged before stepping into the closet, keeping it arced open to hide herself as she lifted open the crate, going over the assortment of clothing inside, "I get that."

"Really?" Nick asked, surprised, "You have quite the group of friends if your band is any indication."

Sighing, Gwen paused before replying, "It's complicated…"

Nick could catch her regret, though he didn't bring it up, simply turning away and replying innocently enough, "Sorry."

Breaking for a moment to pause in thought, Gwen ultimately spoke up as she pushed her suit down her body, kicking it off before grabbing at one of the articles of clothing to try on, speaking accusingly "You can tell what I'm thinking, can't you?"

No reply.

Gwen sighed, "My best friend died in my arms. because of me. I can't handle that again. I don't get close to people anymore- in my line of business, that tends to lead to a short life expectancy. I can't handle protecting more people than I do already."

She turned toward the slit between the door and threshold, trying to catch what Nick was doing while buttoning up the ill-fitting jeans around her waist, unsure of why he'd gone quiet. Soon enough, a quiet reply came from him, a sort of weak tone lining his voice.

"Sorry to hear that..."

Gwen lowered her gaze, wondering if Nick was picking up on the sheer amount of guilt she was feeling at that moment, the same feelings she had every time she thought about Peter. It swelled up within her heart, surely it was pouring from her mind just as well. She suddenly felt a sudden sense of vulnerability, now that she began to think about this man's abilities, how bare she truly was, even while clothing herself. She eyed her chest, her bra torn and ragged from the earlier battle, her mind quietly figuring that, even clothed, she was still exposed to this man in a way. A quite uncomfortable way.

"You ever fall?"

Gwen's ears perked up, "Huh?"

"Y'know, like off a building," Nick explained quietly, "Just climb up to the top of a skyscraper and just…fall? It just always seemed so freeing to me. Might be nice to just forget about everything else. I think about it a lot, but you; you could do it and catch yourself."

Gwen's eyes narrowed. Had he heard her? Was he attempting to demonstrate his own sense of vulnerability in exchange for hers?

She pulled the wonky shirt down her torso before leaving the closet, peeking out to find Nick standing there, massaging his chin as if he had been deep in thought, not noticing Gwen's stare…at least not reacting to her doing so. Taking a nervous gulp, Nick suddenly jerked into action, turning back toward the closet with wide, surprised eyes.

"That's kind of really weird," Gwen noted aloud, slowly revealing a soft smile.

Nick grinned, lowering his head, "It is, yeah."

Patting her pocket, Gwen pointed out, "I don't have my wallet, so-"

"It's on me," Nick shrugged, "I sort of broke a cardinal sin of your craft, I suppose. Least I can do for taking your mask off. I just figured you needed more air or something. You come this far uptown often? Any places you life?"

Gwen shrugged, offering a knowing smirk, "I'm kind of diggin' The Last Cashew, really."

"Wow, you guys really want to get into that place," Nick pointed out with quiet chuckle, "What'd they ever do to you all?"

She eyed him playfully, "Shouldn't you already know why?"

Nick buried his head as the two walked toward the door, hiding his own grin.


	12. Breakfast of Outcasts

Nick sidled into the booth of the small diner nearby, keeping his head low as he pushed himself as close to the window as he could get, slouching down as Gwen followed, unaware of his mannerism as she was quite lost in her outfit, far more self conscious of it now that she was in public.

"I'm guessing that place was a shelter back in the seventies?" she wondered aloud with a grimace, pulling the hem of the shirt up to examine the messily designed pattern of flowers that was so incredibly out of place on her, "Never again, Gwen; never- you okay?"

She caught Nick trying to remain out of sight, a look of surprise catching him as he returned with his own glance over his shoulder, "Yeah, just- I come here a lot. I don't want anybody recognizing me or anything."

"Really?" Gwen replied with suspicion, "Any real rea-?"

"Hey Nicky!" came a shout from behind the counter, Gwen catching the face of a spirited old lady as she waved over toward the table, "I'll send somebody right on over, hun!"

Nick gave a cordial wave before doubling his efforts to remain out of sight, Gwen raising a hand to hide her smirk, "Sorry."

He sent a sarcastic glance toward Gwen before releasing a n exasperated sigh, "You can go on and say it; I'm not easily offended."

At his go-ahead, Gwen quietly asked behind a short giggle, "Is it _Nicky_ or _hun_?"

He nodded with unamused lips, leaning further over the table, "I helped her out one time and she kind of expects me to show up as often as I do now, so I can't exactly stop and let the familiarity dissipate as much as I'd like to."

"She does-" Gwen noted, catching the woman's nametags, " _Frankie_ does seem nice. I was just teasing, but you probably already know that."

Nick nodded, "I did, but you don't really have to point that out every time; I'm patient enough to catch information twice, I don't mind."

He scratched his ear, peering through the window, "If I can get conversations as normal as possible, that'd be ideal."

"Sorry," Gwen apologized sincerely, much to Nick's surprise.

"Oh, don't be," he assured, "Trust me. I barely understand my own self; at no point would I fault others for not understanding me either."

He turned back out the window, "Especially with my _thing_. It's not the sort of talent that brings with it a broader sense of others. Society is so full of people wearing masks; seeing beyond those doesn't exactly help you within society."

Nick's eyes wandered back toward Gwen with a tenuous glance, " _Masks_ , so to speak."

Before Gwen to register a response, a waitress came over with the hasty stripping sound of her notepad losing another sheet accompanying, her thick voice tearing through the air, "What c'n I get foar ya ta drink, hons?"

Nick tapped his finger attentively, "I'll just have a coffee."

Just as Gwen turned to speak, Nick continued, "She'll have a coffee as well. Two creams and a single cube of ice."

Gwen's lips coiled in playful castigation, remaining silent however as the gaudy ol' waitress slipped her notepad into her apron, "Gaught it, hons. I'll bring'm ovah 'n get yoaur ordah, a'right?"

Taking care to nod excessively, lest he meet the critiquing eyes of his guest, Nick finally acquiesced, grinning boyishly as Gwen's eyes narrowed, "So, like, can you finish sentences or something?"

"I can," Nick shrugged, "That'd be twelve kinds of awkward though, so I don't actively do it."

Gwen challenged with a wry smirk, "Let's try it, then. I'll say something and you try to finish it, alright?"

"I, uh," Nick muttered nervously, scratching the back of his head, "I don't think-"

"You said yourself, you don't exactly understand it, right?" Gwen questioned sincerely, misinterpreting his earlier words, though Nick only watched her curiously, "You're buying me breakfast, so why don't we see if we can't figure _something_ out?"

Nick frowned, "I'm already buying 'cause I took your…mask off."

"Eh, who's counting," Gwen shrugged, completely enamoured by such an ability, "Come on; I've got a good one from my second year dissertation that I'm _really_ trying not to think about before hand."

Allowing a subtle sigh, Nick went along with a single, "Okay."

Gwen gave a triumphant arm-pump before immediately speaking, "A scatter plot graph that shows the relationship between the stars' absolute magnitude-"

"-or luminosities versus their stellar classifications," Nick interrupted, pausing for some dramatic effect as he gave a weak smile, "is called a… Is that German?"

Caught up in her own awe, Gwen fell back in her booth with wide eyes, "Whoa... It was Hertzsprung-Russell, by the way."

Nick lowered his head, "Yeah, different languages kind of throw me for a loop in that- was that astrophysics?"

"Yeah," Gwen sighed, leaning forward onto the table, "Going into college, I wasn't sure what I wanted to go into, science-wise. I figured I'd take both astrophysics and chemistry first year and see whichever one stuck, but that was just a disaster, balancing all that mess. Kind of trained me for my current line of work, I suppose."

"Now it's all just another distraction," she muttered, growing quieter as the waitress returned with two mugs of coffee, happily asking for their orders.

Gwen shot Nick a glance that prompted him to nervously clear his throat, speaking quietly himself, "Uh, she'll have the All-American Scram- or, nevermind, she'll have the Highway- Okay, the-"

He gave a pleading glance toward Gwen, who silently apologized before thinking of the proper order, though not quick enough to beat the waitress from musing aloud, "Quite th' indecisive one ya get here, Nicky! Ya know, women like us're miiighty dang'rous, heh heh!"

Gwen stifled a snort at the sudden teasing coming from two different sides, burying her face in her arm as Nick groaned aloud, " _She_ will have the Flatiron Flapjacks, and I'll just get the Sausage McGee, please."

"Heeey, same 's usual, eh?" the waitress noted in elderly tone, "I'll get it all settled fer both a ya!"

She walked off, revealing Gwen's eyes as they peeked out from her arm, cheeks scrunched up from her still-intense smile. She quickly turned her eyes back toward Nick, shaking her head in conflict with her amusement, readily accepting of Nick going on.

"Don't apologize," he confirmed lightly, "This is the most normal interaction I've had in a while. I'm just happy you've, uh… Most people, when I meet them, they- I'm not exactly personable; I'm pretty quiet. They usually assume I'm a creep or something, but… I don't know, I've not caught that thought from you."

Gwen paused for a moment before replying, "I mean, in my field, my perceptions are kind of skewed, I guess. I've dealt with people far creepier than you; 'n besides, I'm pretty sure I know _why_ you don't talk."

Nick watched her curiously as her head lowered to accept a sip of her coffee, staring sadly into the mugs curling ripples as she returned it to the table, "My friend, Peter. He and I grew up together; we were like best pals, I suppose, but- He was very smart, like, he could rattle off all the state capitals when we were eight, so he was basically a genius to me."

Her lips curled into a smile as she took a moment to think about those days, continuing softly, melancholy lining her voice, "Of course, he would lose himself in books to learn more and more. I struggled so hard to match his smarts; I didn't want him to one-up me, y'know. I _had_ to get into the same high school he did, for the smart kids. Anyway, he was the kind of guy who would turn inward at times, sometimes to the detriment of our friendship. I wouldn't hear from him for a week or two at times, but- I had to learn, long ago, that for all those times he hadn't a work to speak to me, it was only because he was being so loud in his mind, working out complex theorems and stuff."

She shrugged, "You're kind of the same way, huh?"

"I, uh- I suppose," Nick supposed weirdly, as though uncomfortable with being compared to a stranger this woman obviously held in high regard, "I wasn't good at school, really; it was more stressful than anything, having to-"

He came to a slow stop, his fingers spinning his mug back and forth atop its saucer, the grinding of ceramic breaking the air lazily as Nick began again, "I always hated having this. Especially once I realized other people didn't have it. I felt like such a freak, and hearing others confirming that, especially as kids and teenagers, I so wished I could just quiet the noise. Live as obliviously as anybody else does. For years, it was nothing more than a curse, hearing people die, hearing my mother-"

He stopped suddenly, his face turning in quiet regret, "It wasn't until I saw you, actually, that I- I mean, not _you_ , but…you know. I would see these superheroes, Avengers, with all their tech, their strength- it was all so unattainable, you know? Like a band going on tour to play in front of fans, but you're eleven and they're never less than three states away. Just so distant."

"Boy, don't I know it…" Gwen frowned.

Nick chuckled, "But you showed up and- I don't know; here was somebody with a quickly assembled get-up just trying to do whatever they could to-"

He trailed off, catching Gwen's humored contempt, allowing her to speak it herself, "I'll have you know, my outfit's gone through quite the many revisions. It certainly isn' _t quickly assembled_ , sir."

"Okay, okay," Nick agreed with a smile, "In any case, it helped me out of that headspace I'd put myself in for years. You know, you never asked for fame or whatever, you hide your identity- you have abilities and you use them for the sake of doing good."

Gwen felt a tremor down her spine, curling her lips indecisively at how ironic his words were, knowing that she did, indeed, crave _some_ form of recognition, if only from the Avengers, or maybe even Jessica herself. She knew Nick understood that, though he failed to bring it up, allowing Gwen to simply listen herself as he went on.

"I don't actively go out and, like, stomp on bad guys or anything crazy like that," he admitted, "But, I mean, if I hear things, like a slowed heartbeat, or cancerous cells regenerating at a quickening rate, yeah, I'll figure out a way to tell them."

He began to crack a smile, "There was this guy at the library one time, I actually heard his follicles not growing hair as quickly as they usually do, so I slipped a book on male-pattern baldness when he wasn't looking. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost."

Gwen smiled as he recounted such an amusing tale, listening as he shrugged, "I spent many nights growing up just- Just wanting to end it all. It was just such a massive weight upon me, but- I remembered that dripping… That man who'd done the same, who'd had nobody who cared for him enough to find him. But _I_ knew. _Me. I_ knew about him, and yet…I did nothing. I heard his pulse for a split second, his heartbeat."

His eyes fell slowly, "Nobody's ever heard my heartbeat. That's the kind of thing that only- I probably knew him better than anybody else and I didn't-…"

"I have something, an affliction," Nick explained, drearily, "Regardless of what exactly it is, you know, not everybody has what I have. Maybe there's a responsibility- if you can improve others' lives, and you choose not to… What does that say about me?"

Gwen gave him a curious stare, "Is that why you helped me?"

Shrugging, Nick admitted, "You were passed out in an alleyway; I wouldn't 've just walked off if you'd been anybody else."

Catching his misinterpretation, Gwen began again but was immediately cut off by the arrival of their breakfast, a stack of pancakes laid out in front of Gwen in a show of decadence that was wholly unfamiliar to her in her college years. The waitress made her way to the back once again as Nick appraised his own plate, staring curiously toward Gwen whose eyes were growing even wider in awe.

"You got it?" Nick asked with a chuckle.

Gwen nodded, "Oh, of course, I just- I've eaten corn dogs for breakfast, what, for years now? I'm not at all used to this kind of- Don't they need to contact the city to construct something so tall?!"

Quickly covering his mouth to hide a laugh, Nick shook his head before starting on his own meal, "I suppose corn dogs _would_ be great on-the-go food. You can eat 'em upside-down, sideways."

"See? You've got some idea of how this sort of thing works," Gwen pointed out happily, "You just need a food that suits _you_. I saw on Twitcher those Norwegian places where they make ice cream helmets you eat your way out of; maybe hook yourself up with some of those."

Nick smirked, "Wouldn't be a bad idea, I suppose. If I could take some headphones in there 'n get some crazy reverb. You know, you might have something there, actually; from what I've experimented with, low frequencies travel more easily through objects, and that seems to apply to me. Get some tonal stuff, one of those silly head-things online that people sleep on their desks with, might drown everything out. Taking my escapism through music to a whole new level.

"Huh," Gwen mused absently, catching a bite of her pancakes with a soft curl of her lips, "That's what my drums were when I was growing up. Sort of a way to escape my dad's rigid lifestyle after mom died- he was a cop, after all."

She poked at her pancake stack with a wayward motion, "No parties, no going out too late. Probably why I got so good at keeping a beat- lots and lots of practice. My ankle was like a monkey's fist at one point."

Nick chuckled with quiet nervousness, "You've got me beat there. I mainly use a synthesizer when the mood strikes me, but I do play some keyboard."

"Piano?" Gwen asked.

"No, I plan on taking my computer keyboard to Carnegie one day," Nick clarified with a wry smirk.

Gwen desperately tried to stifle a laugh, unable to do so as she buried her face into her arm, her body jolting up and down in amusement, Nick partaking in much the same manner, shaking his head, "That was so bad."

"Might'a been why it was so funny," Gwen laughed, "Hey, what's the difference between a well-dressed man on a unicycle and a-

"Attire," Nick interrupted, quickly yanking his legs up into the booth as he matched her laugh, desperate to avoid her vicious kicks.

"You ruined it!" Gwen complained through her incessant laughter, still trying to jab a foot into Nick in retaliation for spoiling the joke, though soon enough, her laughter began to fade, along with her quick motions.

She reached an arm up to wipe across her face, sighing in exhaustion as her guest did the same, though Nick reached for a napkin to pass to her, groaning as tire worked its way through him, "I'll admit, I was pretty freaked by those goons, and I wasn't sure if they'd show up again- I didn't get much of any sleep last night."

"The Avengers have scales and graphs and junk," Gwen noted wryly, "Most…people like me, they have advantages and disadvantages, sooo… Considering _your_ thing, how exactly would you-"

"Have you ever seen a capybara defend itself?" Nick asked in good humor, "I'd basically sit and wait for them to take me."

Gwen nodded with a smirk, "Those drum lessons sure don't seem like they were so incessant _now_."

"Oh no, I can attest," Nick answered lightly, tapping his foot against the bottom of the booth to point it out, "That monkey's fist _wasn't_ a joke."

Trying to hide a smirk, Gwen quickly realized the futility of doing so, ultimately speaking to keep her from remaining in such a state, "Well, if you'd like to cut it short here, I feel worlds better; I should be able to get home, now. It was nice having a real breakfast for once."

Nick gave a nod, "It was nice having a real conversation for once."

"You seem well-adjusted enough," Gwen half-complimented, much to Nick's amusement.

"The voices in _my_ head teach me enough," he assured with a light tone, "Still, it was nice talking to you-know-who."

"I think she-who-must-not-be-named has more cache to it, personally," Gwen opined, "I'm 'the evil', you know."

Nick shrugged, "Well, you changed _one_ life for the better. I'm sure I'm not the only one."

Such words forced Peter back into Gwen's mind, her eyes turning low as she quivered, knowing she'd killed one life. Nick watched her with concern, feeling her dread, though didn't feel it proper to mention it, simply clearing his throat to break her mind from concentrating of something so dreary.

"Anyway, uh," he spoke up, "Thanks. For the other day, but- for being cool, too."

Gwen smiled, "And thank you for the help last night. _and_ breakfast. _and_ for not being nearly as weird as you promised you'd be."

"I can work on that," Nick assured her with an attentive nod.

Scooting out to head over to the register, Nick handled his mug a final time to down the last few sips of lukewarm coffee before returning it to the table, his outstretched arm turning toward Gwen in offering a handshake, which she quickly reciprocated with a friendly smile before sliding out to rise to her feet as well.

"I'll hear ya around?" Gwen asked with slight sarcasm.

Nick shrugged, "If you need someone to hide somewhere or listen super well, just yell or something, I dunno. You guys have a secret handshake or something?"

"First, you're not a superhero," Gwen reminded quietly, though her lips slowly turned upward, "Technically, _I'm_ not either, not until I'm in S.H.I.E.L.D. Maybe next time, the two outcasts can make one up or something; make it a destination to be one of us instead of them or the Avengers."

Turning his eyes away toward the window, Nick replied, "Might be nice."


End file.
